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Authors: Nicola Morgan
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she would not glance my way. Well, I have indicated before that I did not like her and I did not.
A piece of doughy cake was placed beside me and gestures made that we were to wipe our plates with it. I did so, and took much pleasure from the crumbly, savoury stuff, rich with the taste of toasted corn or somesuch. It was warm and comforting, and at the end of it I felt a great deal better.
Still my head ached from my earlier injury; still it spun with the effect of that and the whisky; but I felt now no fear and my stomach was full. I had reason to be content, after so much danger.
I could not tell what was to come, but it could not be worse than what we had faced. Bessâs black eyes seemed once more to smile at me. She looked tired, though, very tired, with shadows above her cheeks, her face pale as opal, her hair straggly and limp. And her lips, usually so red, were now bloodless.
âOn your head be the consequences,â she had said. But I had saved our lives on this occasion. I had been right to come here, and if it had been a close thing, then close things are what make life worth the living.
Now, perhaps, we could begin to live our lives?
I thought perchance we could stay here a few days and then move on. I thought that we could rest, eat, give the horses time to recover from the journey, and then leave, proceeding to whatever life might have in store for us.
But it was not to be.
Chapter Twelve
I marvelled at the behaviour of the men that evening. They had been so ready to kill us, but now seemed to have forgotten our presence, as they huddled on stools at the far end of the room, away from the fire. It was as if they did not take our lives seriously â it had mattered so little to them whether we lived or died that our escape from drowning did not stir their emotions.
I suppose now they talked of the old manâs death and what they might do about it â but I could hear only parts of what they said. The argument between Thomas and Red seemed forgotten. Red had returned from outside, with a rolling gait, seeming forgetful of what had happened, though at no point did he come to thank me as the others had. The other men took me by the hand or slapped me on the back, until my face was tired from smiling back at them.
Though they might seem suddenly to be our friends, I did not trust them as yet.
The boy of my age, Calum, was not there. He had been sent outside for some reason I did not know. Mad Jamie, too, had gone, back to wherever he came from, I presumed.
Iona sat by the fire. She was deftly weaving willow to make a basket, when Jeannie handed her a slate and instructed her to copy out some lines from a huge black Bible. At first, she grumbled, but Jeannie had said something about Sunday being a good day to write words from the Bible and she had gracelessly taken the slate and begun to write. I wondered at this â that in such poverty, a girl would learn to read and write.
The old shepherdâs corpse still lay on the trestle table at the far end of the dwelling, near where the men sat now. I had heard mention of waiting for the minister â their word for churchman, I guessed â to come, but I knew not when that would be.
There was much I did not know or understand.
Whereas before we had been held as captives, now suddenly we were treated as guests. This seemed strange to me, though I was too tired to wonder at it. Perhaps they wanted me to tend to Tam when he should wake. And what had Jock said about Bess being small enough to go down to the cave? What did they plan for us?
What if we wished to leave? Would they be so agreeable then?
I had barely strength to remain awake. On the floor I sat, resting my head against the ragged wall, soothed by its cool stones. Bess sat near by on a stool. I could see her looking towards the old woman every now and then.
The old woman for her part sat on the floor by the fire now, her legs crossed like a young child at play, staring
A piece of doughy cake was placed beside me and gestures made that we were to wipe our plates with it. I did so, and took much pleasure from the crumbly, savoury stuff, rich with the taste of toasted corn or somesuch. It was warm and comforting, and at the end of it I felt a great deal better.
Still my head ached from my earlier injury; still it spun with the effect of that and the whisky; but I felt now no fear and my stomach was full. I had reason to be content, after so much danger.
I could not tell what was to come, but it could not be worse than what we had faced. Bessâs black eyes seemed once more to smile at me. She looked tired, though, very tired, with shadows above her cheeks, her face pale as opal, her hair straggly and limp. And her lips, usually so red, were now bloodless.
âOn your head be the consequences,â she had said. But I had saved our lives on this occasion. I had been right to come here, and if it had been a close thing, then close things are what make life worth the living.
Now, perhaps, we could begin to live our lives?
I thought perchance we could stay here a few days and then move on. I thought that we could rest, eat, give the horses time to recover from the journey, and then leave, proceeding to whatever life might have in store for us.
But it was not to be.
Chapter Twelve
I marvelled at the behaviour of the men that evening. They had been so ready to kill us, but now seemed to have forgotten our presence, as they huddled on stools at the far end of the room, away from the fire. It was as if they did not take our lives seriously â it had mattered so little to them whether we lived or died that our escape from drowning did not stir their emotions.
I suppose now they talked of the old manâs death and what they might do about it â but I could hear only parts of what they said. The argument between Thomas and Red seemed forgotten. Red had returned from outside, with a rolling gait, seeming forgetful of what had happened, though at no point did he come to thank me as the others had. The other men took me by the hand or slapped me on the back, until my face was tired from smiling back at them.
Though they might seem suddenly to be our friends, I did not trust them as yet.
The boy of my age, Calum, was not there. He had been sent outside for some reason I did not know. Mad Jamie, too, had gone, back to wherever he came from, I presumed.
Iona sat by the fire. She was deftly weaving willow to make a basket, when Jeannie handed her a slate and instructed her to copy out some lines from a huge black Bible. At first, she grumbled, but Jeannie had said something about Sunday being a good day to write words from the Bible and she had gracelessly taken the slate and begun to write. I wondered at this â that in such poverty, a girl would learn to read and write.
The old shepherdâs corpse still lay on the trestle table at the far end of the dwelling, near where the men sat now. I had heard mention of waiting for the minister â their word for churchman, I guessed â to come, but I knew not when that would be.
There was much I did not know or understand.
Whereas before we had been held as captives, now suddenly we were treated as guests. This seemed strange to me, though I was too tired to wonder at it. Perhaps they wanted me to tend to Tam when he should wake. And what had Jock said about Bess being small enough to go down to the cave? What did they plan for us?
What if we wished to leave? Would they be so agreeable then?
I had barely strength to remain awake. On the floor I sat, resting my head against the ragged wall, soothed by its cool stones. Bess sat near by on a stool. I could see her looking towards the old woman every now and then.
The old woman for her part sat on the floor by the fire now, her legs crossed like a young child at play, staring
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