Forbidden

Forbidden Elizabeth Victoria Wallace

Š 2010 by Elizabeth Victoria Wallace

ISBN: 978-1-935605-34-8

PART I England- January-1640

Chapter 1

The tranquility of Hedingham Priory was broken by the urgent ringing of the bell on the outside gate. It was a sound not often heard so late in the evening, especially during the winter months. Then it came again, louder still this time. Those behind the ancient stone wall who had rushed into the courtyard wall stood around in small clusters, whispering and goading each other to open the large oak door.

“Good heavens! What’s going on here?” Sister Daphne shrieked as she marched across the courtyard.

“What’s wrong with you all? You stand there gossiping like old women while the bell is being rung.” Chastised, the Sisters gathered behind her, forming a wedge as she called out. “Who is it? What brings you here so late?”

The man sounded out of breath. He gasped several times as if trying to fill his lungs with as much air as possible. “I have an important message for Mother Superior. I am to speak only to her.”

Daphne slid the large bolt to one side, and the door opened with a loud creak and a groan. The messenger almost fell from his horse in exhaustion. He looked as though he was half frozen, his cheeks and lips were chapped sore, and he was puffing and panting. He yanked his cloak from his shoulders and draped it over his arm; the very effort seemed to take the last of his strength. The cold rain and sleet had

soaked through to his tunic and he began to shiver as he led his horse wearily into the courtyard. The Sisters moved backwards, first one step and then another to give room as he passed. He pulled his hat from his head and nodded to them.

Mother Superior Elinor was closeted in her room at the rear of the priory and, although she had heard the bell ringing loudly, decided it must be a weary traveler looking for a bed and thought nothing more of it until Sister Daphne pounded on her door and called her name.

Mother Superior took a deep breath. “Come in Sister Daphne. What is it now? You know better than most I’m not to be disturbed when I’m busy with the accounts. It’s hard enough for me to concentrate, especially under the circumstances.”

Sister Daphne watched as Mother Superior jammed her quill into the inkpot. She was embarrassed by the rebuke and self-consciously brushed imaginary dust from her habit as she entered the room.

“Forgive me for troubling you at this time but a messenger has arrived.” She swallowed hard as she saw the irritation on Mother Superior’s face and wished she had collected her thoughts before knocking on the door. “He rode his horse almost into the ground and will speak only to you.”

Mother Superior eyed Daphne. “Sister, I shouldn’t have to remind you to keep your composure at such times. When you behave in such a way, you set a poor example to our novices and young Sisters. Besides, it’s most unbecoming. Please, get yourself under control and bring the messenger to me.”

With that, she closed her ledger and placed it in the desk drawer locking it with a key that hung from her waist. She would not admit it, but she was almost pleased to take a little break from her accounting duties. The coffers were in a sorry state of affairs, and she wondered how the priory would survive another year. Still, the Lord helps those that help themselves, she thought to herself and pushed down on the desk as she pulled her weary body upright.

Sister Daphne lifted her skirt with both hands and raced back to the courtyard as quickly as possible. Her wimple flapped by her ears and the rosary that hung from the leather belt at her waist swung backwards and forwards with the effort. As she approached the courtyard, she stopped, took a deep breath and walked purposefully towards the group that had formed a half circle around the visitor.

The Sisters were asking questions. “Has he come a long way?”

“Would he be spending the night?

“Was he hungry?”

They were sure they could find a little hay for his horse.

The messenger was stroking his horse’s neck as Daphne arrived.

“Mother Superior will see you now. Follow me.” She turned towards the rear of the priory expecting him to follow. He did so. Daphne looked over her shoulder and when they were out of earshot, she began. “What brings you here in such haste? What’s the purpose of your visit?” The messenger did not answer and they walked towards the rear of the priory in silence.

The messenger looked about him as they crossed the courtyard. It was indeed a poor priory. Almost every building and fence was badly in need of repair. The wattle and daub on the buildings had crumbled in places leaving holes in the walls and piles of rubble on the ground.

He looked over to the barn and saw clumps of thatch hanging precariously off one corner of the roof, while in other places the thatch was completely gone exposing the roof latticework beneath. How long had they lived like this? He thought. There was no livestock to speak of, save a couple of scrawny goats and a few chickens that pecked indiscriminately at the ground.

A skinny pig darted out in front of him, its curled tail standing upright. It did not stop until it reached the relative safety of the barn, and only then dared to peek out to watch the visitor pass. The messenger made a mental note to tell his master of the deplorable conditions as he stepped up his pace to match the Sister.

He did not like the woman who was leading him. She had a spiteful look in her eyes and a cruel mouth that drooped down at the sides. Well, she is of no importance to me, he thought as she led the way to Mother Superior. They quickly walked across the courtyard, into the refectory, through the dining hall and kitchen, finally arriving at Mother Superior’s door. As they approached, he pulled a letter from inside his tunic. Daphne was quick to notice the letter, and in

particular the seal. She had seen that seal before, but where?

She did not give him the pleasure of asking a question she knew he would not answer. Instead, she knocked loudly on the door and heard the command to enter.

Mother Superior was standing when they entered the room. She welcomed the young man, introduced herself, and asked his name and the reason for his visit.

“First of all, I apologize for greeting you without first taking the time to make myself presentable, but I have ridden my horse hard to get here before nightfall.

Secondly, my name is James Peckham, Sergeant at Arms, and I come bearing a letter from my master.”

James Peckham stood erect and attention as he glanced towards Sister Daphne. His instructions had been to speak only to Mother Superior and the presence of the Sister Daphne made him uncomfortable. He looked towards her a second time and clutched the letter close to his chest. The action was not lost on Mother Superior.

“Forgive me, you look quite worn out and I’m forgetting my manners.” She turned towards Daphne. “Would you be kind enough to arrange some refreshments for our guest, Sister?” Daphne’s mouth opened in astonishment and she was about to protest but before she could complain, Mother Superior nodded towards the door. Indignantly, Daphne stepped over the threshold and looked back as Sister Elinor and her visitor began speaking in hushed tones.

Outside in the corridor, Daphne stood for a moment to collect her thoughts before moving towards the kitchen. She was furious she had been asked to leave the room to bring refreshments – as if she were a mere novice. She, above everybody else should have been privy to the meeting!

After all, she and Mother Superior had arrived together as novice nuns almost forty years ago, and it was generally accepted she was second in command. Stinging from the rejection, she realized she could still hear some of the discussion on the other side of the door. She stood her ground and listened.

To cover her deception Daphne bent down and pretended to tie her bootlace. There was no need; she was completely alone. She listened intently. It seemed a young woman had arrived in the village of Hadleigh. She was very sick and despite constant care, had not improved over the past week. Daphne heard the man’s voice clearly. “I have a letter that explains everything. My master expects me to escort a

Sister back to Hadleigh.�

There was silence behind the closed door and Daphne assumed Mother Superior was reading the letter.

Within a minute, the voices began again but this time they were more muffled. Fearing she might be discovered, Daphne turned and made her way towards the kitchen. She had gleaned enough from the conversation to impress the Sisters whom she knew would be anxiously waiting for news of their mysterious visitor.

Mother Superior rose from her desk. “First things first, Sergeant Peckham, you must eat and rest before you return to Hadleigh Castle. You look fatigued, are you sure you’re quite well?”

Peckham used his sleeve to wipe the perspiration from his forehead. “Thank you Sister, I’m fine, but perhaps I did overdo it a little. We never know what’s in store for us during these winter months. One minute the weather is good and the next...” he wiped his brow again before continuing. “The weather wasn’t that bad when I left the castle this afternoon, but I do need to get warm and take care of my poor horse. I’ll take advantage of your kind hospitality for this one night, but I’ll need to get going first thing in the morning.”

Sister Elinor put the letter in her pocket.

“Have no fear. You can sleep in the barn tonight and I have just the person in mind to accompany you tomorrow. I’ll arrange it this very minute and make sure she’s ready by first light. I have no doubt the Earl will be pleased with my choice.”

Chapter 2

A bone chilling wind whipped up as Sergeant Peckham strode across the courtyard to check on his horse and he shivered as he entered the barn. He called out to his little Margie and she turned her head towards him. It was so dark in the barn he could barely see her large brown eyes, but she whinnied and stomped her hind leg as if in greeting. He ran his hand over her hind quarters and could still feel where the lather had dried to a crust. He was grateful someone had removed his saddle and wiped her down, but they had done a poor job. He found a brush on a nearby bench and set to work brushing furiously talking to her the whole time. Nearby, he found three old sacks and placed them over her rump, and then set a pail of water at her feet.

“There you go girl, you’re done with for the time being – I’m off to get something to eat, but I’ll be back soon.” He patted Margie’s neck affectionately as he side-stepped around her, all the while aware of the two goats eyeing him suspiciously from the barn door. The light was quickly fading as he looked back at his little horse and he was glad he had accepted Mother Superior’s invitation to spend the night. The return journey to the castle would take much longer as he would have to walk beside the Sister who would sit astride Margie. He wondered which Sister would accompany him and hoped it would not be the Sister with the

mean mouth.

The thought of food made his mouth water. As he walked into the kitchen, he saw a Sister who was quietly humming to herself as she stirred the contents of a large black pot. When the aroma met his nostrils, Sergeant Peckham clapped his hands together and rubbed them in anticipation. “My God Sister, that smells good!�

Sister Elspeth turned to greet him and introduced herself. She was a pleasant, heavyset woman with cheeks like rosy apples and twinkling eyes. White, wispy stands of hair protruded from her wimple as she wiped her hands on her apron and reached for a bowl. She beamed at him and gestured towards the fireplace.

“I heard we had a visitor. Welcome, come and warm yourself and have a bowl of soup. There’s little meat in it, I’m afraid. Just a few scraps of salt beef but there’s lots of vegetables and barley that will give you nourishment. I just sent a bowl over to Mother Superior’s room for you, but you’re here now, so please sit, rest and enjoy your meal.”

Sister Elspeth handed Peckham his food and a large piece of bread. He dipped the bread in the soup and brought it to his lips. As he did so, his stomach growled loudly with anticipation, and Sister Elspeth smiled. He wondered again if he should have taken a little more time on his journey because he was certainly fatigued. Perhaps it was just the lack of food, but he felt a little lightheaded and dizzy.

While Peckham was eating his fill in the kitchen, Mother Superior made her way to the refectory and her little assembly of Sisters. She walked in and collectively they came to a hush as they waited. She looked to be in a serious mood, pursed lips and a deep frown. When she had their complete attention she spoke.

“I’m sure you are all wondering about our visitor. His name is Sergeant Peckham and he was sent by our benefactor the Earl of Essex on an urgent mission. It appears the Earl has a young woman staying with him who is ill and despite the excellent care she’s been given, her health hasn’t improved. The Earl needs our help. He wants a Sister with medical knowledge to return with Sergeant Peckham to Hadleigh Castle as soon as possible.” She waited for them to absorb the news and she looked in Daphne’s direction.

Daphne smiled to herself as she remembered the seal. Now she remembered the influential family who owned it, and felt she knew what Mother Superior was about to say. A little smirk appeared on her lips, but she quickly controlled herself, took on a somber look and waited.

The group began to chatter excitedly and Mother Superior had to raise her hand to silence them. “As you all know, Sister Edith would normally be sent, but she has been sick for several days and is unable to leave her bed.

Therefore, Sister Catherine will go to the castle in her place.”

This brought a collective gasp from the assembly as some brought they hands to their mouths in surprise. All eyes fell on Sister Daphne who was unable to say a word but they could see she gritted her teeth in anger.

Only one Sister was brave enough to challenge Mother Superior’s decision – Sister Clara, a close friend of Daphne. She was beside herself with rage. Incensed, her eyes flashed with fury and she could not control her temper. “But Mother Superior, surely Sister Daphne is the better choice; she has assisted Sister Edith on many occasions, she is the most experienced amongst us. Surely we have to send the very best person.” Clara looked pointedly at Catherine.

Mother Superior scowled. “My decision is not open for discussion, Sister Clara. Catherine, be in my room in one hour.”

Catherine dared not look at her Sisters, fearful of what she might see in their faces. Instead, she studied her shoes. “Yes, of course, Mother Superior.”

I can’t believe this is happening! Catherine thought as she turned away from the group who were whispering things she could only imagine. Why would Mother Superior make such a decision? She could hardly wait for an hour to find out.

Chapter 3

Catherine knocked on Mother Superior’s door, and it opened almost immediately. She stood on the threshold awkwardly. “Stop dawdling Catherine. Come in, come in and sit down.”

Once seated, Catherine watched Mother Superior’s face as she paced the room.

“You understand that you must be ready to leave first thing in the morning, Catherine. There’s so much to get done this evening; I hardly know where to start.”

Catherine sat uncomfortably on the edge of the chair and coughed nervously into her hand. How could she broach the subject? She knew she had to at least try to change Mother Superior’s mind, and with a heavy heart she plunged ahead.

“Mother Superior, please forgive me. I’m so sorry, but I think I’m ill suited to this task. I’ve only attended Sister Edith on two births and the death of that woman in Boxted; I’m hardly qualified for such an important mission.

Wouldn’t Sister Daphne be better suited?”

Mother Superior stared at Catherine for what seemed like the longest time without saying a word. The silence frightened Catherine and she feared she had gone too far. She scooted to the edge of the chair ready to leap up at a moment’s notice.

“I’m surprised at you for challenging my decision. We’ll say no more on the matter tonight. You still

have a lot to get done this evening. First, go to see Sister Edith and she will advise you what to take – then pack a few personal items. Go now! You still have a lot to do.”

Stinging from the scolding, Catherine stopped halfway down the corridor and stamped her foot in anger, then regretted the action immediately. Displays of bad temper were not tolerated at the priory and she was lucky she had not been seen. But why had she been chosen over Sister Daphne?

When Sister Clara spoke up in Daphne’s defense, Catherine had looked around the group and could see in their eyes they were in agreement with Clara. And they were right! Everyone knew Daphne was the better choice. She also knew she would not hear the last of it. Daphne would make her pay one way or the other. She was spiteful and mean and could make life difficult for Catherine and her friend Eliza.

It was getting late in the evening and Catherine still had many chores to perform, but rather than incur Mother Superior’s wrath again, she marched quickly to her room to collect items she would need for her journey.

Placing them in a pile at the foot of her bed, she hurriedly to Sister Edith’s room and knocked gently on the door. She heard a faint response and gingerly stepped into the room, unsure of what she would find. She had not seen Edith for over a week and wondered what she would find. There was a musty odor to the room. It was dark, the curtains drawn across the windows to keep the meager warmth from escaping. The embers from a small fire glowed in the darkness and together with a candle provided the only light in the room.

“Come closer,” said Edith. “What brings you to me this evening? Come closer, dear girl, I want to see your happy face.”

Catherine did as she was asked and turned to look at the Sister she had known all her life. She was shocked to see Edith’s condition. She had rapidly deteriorated and had lost considerable weight. Her hair seemed to have thinned and it appeared grayer than Catherine remembered. Her blue eyes once full of mischievousness were now rheumy and lacked their usual sparkle. She spoke quietly, almost at a whisper as she pulled herself up on one elbow.

“Now Catherine, tell me what’s bothering you.

You look as though you have the weight of the world on your shoulders. Puff up my pillow and help me sit up, please.”

Catherine sat at the end of the bed and, almost without taking a breath; the whole story came tumbling out about the visitor, the young woman who was desperately sick and Catherine’s proposed journey to Hadleigh Castle.

Edith waited patiently until Catherine had finished her story. “If Mother Superior did not feel you were up to the task, she wouldn’t be sending you.”

Catherine wailed, “But Sister Edith, I’ve only helped you a few times. You know I’m not very good – not at all competent. I’m scared I’ll fail and embarrass us all. Then what will the Earl say? He might be so angry, he will cut us off! I know we depend heavily on his charity.”

“That’s absolute nonsense Catherine, and you know it! I’ve never heard of such a thing. The Earl is a kind man and will appreciate your help. I have every confidence in you. Have faith in God for He is the one who watches over you. Now, enough of this whining, let’s prepare you for your journey.”

Catherine pursed her lips and looked thoughtfully at the diminutive nun. “If you were to have a word with Mother Superior and explain my misgivings...I’m sure she would listen to you!”

“Oh stop it. For goodness sake, the decision’s been made, and you need to get on with it.” “See that basket over there in the corner; you can use it for your supplies.

Now, listen to what I have to say.”

Numbly, Catherine followed Edith’s directions and began filling the basket with an assortment of medicines, remedies and poultices. Rolls of clean linen for bandages, mustards and herbs were placed together with a mortar and pestle. Finally, Catherine placed a cloth over the basket and secured it with twine.

As Edith watched Catherine collect the items, she shook her head and smiled. Dear God, has it been fifteen years or longer, she thought, since that shy little girl had arrived at the priory? She had hidden in the folds of her mother’s skirt and had howled for days when he mother left.

Nobody could console her. She cried on and off for months, then less frequently, then not at all. Over the years, she and her Sisters did what they could to embrace their young charge.

It was easy because she was happy child, and always ready with a quick smile. But, as she grew to womanhood, she was often willful and too highly spirited for their comfort.

Catherine had developed into a fine young woman and was

about to undertake a difficult assignment. Edith sighed aloud, a sigh that caused Catherine to turn her head.

“What’s wrong Sister?”

“Come; sit with me for a moment my child.”

Edith patted the side of her cot “You can spare an old woman a few minutes of your time, can’t you?”

Catherine picked up a wooden stool and approached the bed. She felt as though she had somehow contributed to Edith’s obvious melancholy, but to her surprise Edith smiled and clasped Catherine’s hands in her own.

“You know, as a young woman I had the same misgivings and concerns that I believe you are struggling with at this moment. You are worried and anxious just as I was when given my first assignment. I understand your apprehension my dear, but I know you’ll do well. I have every confidence in you. Just try to do your best, trust in God and the rest will follow.”

Catherine wanted to cry but instead brought Edith’s hands gently to her lips and kissed them.

“Thank you, Sister Edith.”

Closing the door quietly behind her, Catherine quickened her pace to her room. She felt a little better after talking with Sister Edith. The older woman’s confidence in Catherine’s abilities had improved her spirits somewhat and, with a lighter mood, she closed the bedroom door. Making her way down the corridor, she could not shake the feeling of foreboding as she hooked the basket over her arm. She dreaded the following day, and hurriedly made for her room.

Chapter 4

Catherine knew something was wrong as soon as she entered the barn the next morning. Instinctively, she recoiled, covering her nose and mouth with her hand. The messenger lay shivering in the early morning light. It was obvious he had lost control of his bodily functions because the whole barn reeked with the odor. Embarrassed, he tried to rally himself and stand in her presence, but a wicked cough wracked his poor body so much that it sent him to his knees.

She took a few steps forward but he held up his hand. “Please, do not come any closer, Sister.”

She did not want to embarrass him. “My dear sir, you are a very sick man, I fear there will be no traveling for us today.”

“Mother Superior has chosen you – what is your name Sister?” he said between fits of coughing.

“My name is Sister Catherine MacDonald and yes, I understood we were to leave first thing this morning, but I can see we’ll have to postpone the trip until you are well enough to travel.”

“No, my instructions were clear – I am to return to the castle without delay.” Peckham coughed again and moaned a little. “But I fear I have worse news: my horse is lame. In my haste, she must have lost a shoe and I didn’t notice in the darkness. Unless you have a blacksmith nearby, I’m afraid Margie is useless too.”

“I’m sure this changes everything. Let me

speak to Mother Superior and in the meantime, you must rest and regain your strength. I’ll arrange for some food to be brought to you. Please, do not overly concern yourself.”

As she strode across the courtyard towards Mother Superior’s room, Catherine marveled at how quickly the situation had changed. She found herself torn between emotions: one of happiness that the trip might be postponed, another for the sergeant at arms and also for the sick woman at the castle. She did not wish anyone harm, but by the same token, perhaps a short delay might work to her advantage.

Perhaps in a day or two a blacksmith would have been summoned to shoe the horse, and Sister Edith may have recovered enough to resume her duties. She reprimanded herself for being selfish and self centered as she rapped loudly on Mother’s Superior door. Once inside, she quickly told Mother Superior what she had found in the barn.

As she listened, Mother Superior picked up her rosary absentmindedly and looked out the window. “I thought he looked unwell yesterday. He was sweating profusely, but I supposed it was due to his long, hard ride. Oh dear, this is most troubling. What to do? What to do? I suppose there’s no choice really is there?” Catherine held her breath. “You’ll have to make the journey alone – and on foot.”

Catherine could hardly believe her ears. She stood, mouth agape, staring at Mother Superior. “I know you have a very difficult task ahead of you, my dear, and I know you are nervous, but at this point, I have few options. I simply cannot afford to send more than one person. As it is, I’m going to have to find someone to do all your chores while you’re away. In any event, the Earl needs our help and I feel you are better suited than any other in the priory. Have you been to see Sister Edith? Has she advised you on what you should take to the castle?”

Catherine nodded indicating she had done so as Mother Superior folded a letter she had been writing. She held a stick of red wax over a candle, let the hot wax drip onto the letter and pushed the seal of the priory into the hot liquid.

Catherine kept quiet as she watched the wax ooze around the seal.

“Take this letter of introduction and present it to the Earl of Essex. In it, I have explained why I’m sending you rather than Sister Edith.” She watched Catherine’s face as she stepped forward. With that, she placed the letter in a leather satchel and handed it to Catherine saying, “I’ll prepare a map and directions to Hadleigh while you ready yourself.

God be with you my child. We’ll see you again when your work is done.”

Catherine stood for a moment as if trying to decide whether she should approach Mother Superior again about her concerns and worries, but instead turned on her heels and walked briskly towards the door.

“A word of warning Catherine: This is your first time outside these walls alone. Remember there will be people who will try to take advantage of your good nature. Be watchful and wary, and trust your instincts.”

“Yes, I’ll remember.” Catherine closed the door gently and made her way to the barn. She did not feel as confident as she had last night – in fact; she did not what to think.

Perhaps it won’t be too bad, she thought. After all, Mother Superior and Sister Edith have confidence in me.

Henrietta, her favorite chicken was in the courtyard and she smiled down at the bird. How many times had she lifted the large body and taken the warm eggs that lay beneath. She did not know – hundreds of times she guessed. The eggs were a constant source of nourishment at the priory, and it was one of Catherine’s duties to find them all. Some hens were vicious and pecked at her nimble fingers as she searched their nests, but Henrietta always allowed her to take the eggs without protest.

The rooster strutted around importantly clucking away as he protected his brood, sporting his blood red comb and magnificent tail. He watched Catherine with his beady eyes as she walked towards the barn.

Mother Superior tried to concentrate on her work, but it was almost impossible. She wondered for the umpteenth time if she had done the right thing. Should she reconsider? Sister Daphne was surely more experienced in medical matters, but she was prone to gossiping. No, she was sure she had made the proper decision. Besides, this opportunity was too good to pass up. For years, she had kept the Earl informed of developments at the priory, and he had responded with generous donations. In the letter, she had explained that Sister Edith was ill and unable to travel; therefore she had sent Catherine MacDonald instead. She chuckled to herself when she considered how the Earl would react. Catherine had been a mere child when she left Hadleigh

Castle and now she had grown into a fine young woman.

Mumbling to herself, Catherine entered the barn again. The Sergeant at Arms was now sitting upright leaning against a bale of hay, but he looked no better. Sweat was beading on his upper lip and forehead and his hair was matted to his head. The blood had drained from his face which gave him a pasty, white appearance. She could see he was miserable.

He gamely tried to stand. “What did Mother Superior say – what’s her decision?”

“I’ll be making the journey alone and on foot!”

“No! I cannot allow it, my master will be furious with me.”

“It’s not for you or me to decide,” she said as she turned on her heels. “Besides, I’m told the journey is only ten miles and it’s still early morning. I shall leave immediately.”

Peckham was still voicing his disapproval as she allowed the barn door to slam closed behind her.

Catherine collected the items for her journey and made her way back across the courtyard. She was surprised to find several of her Sisters gathered there to wish her well. She glanced towards Daphne, saw her sullen face, and quickly turned away without acknowledging her presence. The feelings of excitement and nervousness about her journey were emotions she had never experienced before, and she was almost giddy with anticipation.

Catherine hugged one Sister and another until she reached Sister Daphne. “Well, I’d better get going and let you return to your duties.”

“Goodbye, goodbye Catherine” they called aloud as the priory door creaked shut.

It was still early morning and despite the time of year, the sun peeked through the clouds, lifting her spirits somewhat, but dark clouds filled the horizon. She allowed her mind to wander. Who would collect the eggs and milk the goats? She suspected it would be her friend, Sister Eliza. They often shared their duties when one or the other was ill. Well, there’s nothing I can do about it now, she thought as she trudged along the muddy trail.

An hour-and-a-half into her journey, she came to a mile marker beside the path. Chiseled into the stone was the heading: Hadleigh, 7 miles. She smiled to herself, pleased she had come this far when she saw a good-sized stone lying on the path. She took a couple of steps, kicked it hard and it bounced off a tree landing a few feet ahead. She laughed aloud, picked up her skirt, took aim and kicked it again with such enthusiasm, it landed in the bushes several feet away, ending her little game and all of a sudden, she became despondent.

She had talked herself into believing this journey would be exciting, an adventure in fact, but it was no such thing. She wrapped her threadbare woolen cloak around her slight shoulders in a vain attempt to keep herself warm.

Her dainty little leather boots were thick with mud and her face and hands were frozen. She looked around and chided herself for not wearing warmer clothes but truth be told, she had no warmer clothes. The damp, bone chilling weather knifed through her cloak and habit, but she would not turn back. It was not only her pride that kept her going, but the reputation of the priory. To make matters worse, the first snow of the season fell lightly around her.

The path through the woods was wide enough only for a cart and horse, and little else. The ancient branches of the elm and Black Poplar trees had merged together in the center of the path creating a canopy of twisted limbs where the meager sun could not penetrate. It appeared to Catherine as though she was entering a rabbit warren, so dense and dark the tunnel.

Before entering, she stood for a moment to listen to the sounds of the woods. Her senses were on high alert - a rustle here, a broken twig there. What’s the matter with you Catherine - It could be anything! It’s probably just a badger, rabbit or fox looking for a meal, she thought. But there was something else – something she could not quite put her finger on. Then she had it. It was the smell! The pungent odor of decaying leaves blanketing the woodland brought memories flooding back to Catherine; memories she did not understand nor could she explain, but fear gripped her heart.

She pulled the map from her satchel and studied it. If there had been a way to avoid going through Hockley Woods, Mother Superior had not included it. Taking a deep breath, Catherine bravely marched on until she heard a commotion in a nearby field. She stopped dead in her tracks and looked to her left and right.

A large clutch of rooks screeched and swooped overhead, seemingly annoyed at her presence. She saw some birds pecking at something on the ground. The birds were known for their quarrelsome nature and insatiable appetite. They would leave little behind except a few bones for the foxes to enjoy. Realizing she was the cause of the disturbance, she swiveled on her heels and watched them in flight. Some continued to circle above her head while others returned to their nests high in a stand of Dutch Elms. The sinewy limbs of the tall trees, bare this time of year, held a large rookery. She could see the large nests had been built at the forks on a branch providing a natural platform for the heavy nests. She smiled to herself and wondered how the birds knew where to build their nests. In fact, she decided there were a lot of things she did not know. There was only so much she could learn from the books in the priory’s library.

A pair of rooks landed on the path a few feet ahead of Catherine and they strutted before her, their long black tails proudly pointing upwards. When she got too close, they flew to a nearby tree, cawed and flapped their wings as if in warning. “Stupid birds!” she said aloud “You don’t scare me!” But it wasn’t true: the woods seemed dark and foreboding.

The basket with its meager contents that had seemed so light at the outset now felt heavy as she moved it from one hand to the other to ease the burden. She passed the leather satchel over her head so it sat comfortably against her left side. It contained little except the map and letter of introduction from Mother Superior to the Earl of Essex. She wondered what the letter contained. It had to explain why Sister Edith had not made the journey and why Catherine had been sent her in place, but she had a nagging feeling there was more to it. She had to admit, Mother Superior had acted strangely during the whole episode, and that no matter how many times Catherine tried to make allowances for her, the decision not to send Sister Daphne simply did not make sense.

Had she missed something? She did not know, and the thought worried her.

Chapter 5

Catherine had barely walked half a mile before the silence of the woodland was broken by the sound of squeaking wheels and the snorting of an animal. She quickly stepped off the path and hid among the hawthorn bushes. Unsure of what to do next, she decided to wait and watch from the safety of her hiding place. It did not take long before an ox and cart slowly came into view. It lumbered along rocking back and forth on the uneven ground. Her breath quickened and her heart pounded as she peeked from behind the shrubbery.

A farmer sat huddled in the cart with an old moth-eaten blanket over his shoulders. He worn the collar of his jacket pulled up and a muffler around his neck. On his head was a large brimmed felt hat that protected his eyes. He casually held the yoke ropes and lash in his fingerless gloves as he drew down on a small clay pipe clenched between his teeth. Little whiffs of white smoke quickly dispensed in the cold morning air. He seemed indifferent to all things around him; his gaze locked on the path ahead.

Catherine considered her options. She could stay hidden until the farmer had passed and then be safely on her way but, if she asked for his help, she could be placing herself in harm’s way. She looked again at the farmer. Surely, he would do her no harm. Her decision made, she stepped from behind the bushes.

“Whoa Daisy,” said the farmer as he pulled on the yoke ropes and brought the cart to a standstill. The ox responded immediately to his command and stood steaming and snorting as it turned its head towards Catherine. The farmer’s mouth dropped open, causing his pipe to fall and the contents to spill into his lap. He brushed them away angrily.

“My God Sister, you scared me half to death jumping out at me like that - what’s wrong with you? Are you alone?” He narrowed his eyes and they darted around nervously as if he expected a trap. “It’s not safe you know to travel without an escort, and besides why would you be traveling in such bad weather?”

His brusque tone unsettled Catherine immediately and she wondered if she had made the right decision in approaching the farmer, but the damage was done.

“My name is Sister Catherine MacDonald and I’m on my way to Hadleigh Castle. If you would kindly allow me to ride with you for a short while to get my breath and perhaps warm myself a little, I would be most grateful.”

“Well now Sister, since you put it that way...I’d be glad to help you.” He climbed down from the cart and brought his hand to his hat. “First let me introduce myself. Farmer Atley at your service,” he said with a toothy grin and a little bow. “It just so happens I’m on my way to the market in Hadleigh myself and you’re more than welcome to join me.”

Although Atley gave off a nonchalant air, Catherine noticed he still looked a little nervous and watchful.

She tried to put his mind at ease.

“You are most kind Farmer Atley. I will tell Prioress Elinor when I return to Hedingham Priory. We will say a prayer for you.”

Atley took the basket and hoisted it behind the bench seat then reached out to help her into the cart. Once on board, she stamped her cold feet and tried to bring some life into them. At the same time she began to consider her situation. Would Sister Edith have asked for a ride? Had she done the right thing? On reflection, she realized she was somewhat captive on board the cart but on the other hand, her destination was well within her grasp now and surely that was more important. She had made her decision and would have to make the best of it.

Farmer Atley was so curious about his traveling companion, he began asking questions immediately.

“What brings you out on such a terrible day? I heard there was trouble at Hadleigh Castle – you said that was your

destination didn’t you? Is somebody ill? You were holding that basket as though your very life depended on it.�

The questions kept coming, but Catherine did not answer them and merely shook her head each time.

Instead she responded with questions of her own asking the farmer about his harvest and his livestock. He proudly answered her questions believing she was genuinely interested in his life. When he returned to his previous questions, she sank lower into her cloak, pulling the hood further over her head in the pretence of keeping warm and taking a doze, but her intent was to stop the farmer’s questions.

It was not long before they came upon two ruffians walking towards them. Catherine could feel the tension as the farmer whispered out the corner of his mouth.

“I don’t like the look of them Sister. They look like trouble to me. Just keep quiet.”

The men were dressed in thick woolen coats with the collars turned up. Each wore a large hat that covered their eyes but Catherine could see their furtive looks as they came alongside. She felt safe sitting next to Farmer Atley and grateful she had asked for a ride. She would not have liked to meet these two men on the trail alone. They scared her, especially the larger of the two who had a constant leer and whose eyes were dark and watchful.

The men stepped off the path, swung their sacks wearily off their shoulders and allowed the sacks to drop to the ground with a loud thud. Catherine peeked from under her hood at the two men. Atley brought the cart to a standstill.

“Off to market, I see,” said the smaller of the men.

“Yes we are although I have nothing much to sell except root vegetables,” responded Atley. “But you must’ve had an early start if you’re on your way back already.”

They men ignored Atley’s question and instead moved closer to the cart. “Who is this? Is she your daughter? Why, she’s just a little thing isn’t she? You’re a lucky man to have such company.” He leaned on the cart and crouched down in an exaggerated way to look under Catherine’s hood.

Catherine had had enough. With a flourish,

she pulled the hood from her head allowing her wimple to be clearly seen. “What is it Farmer Atley?” she tried to sound irritated.

The man’s mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Oh, I didn’t realize Sister...” his voice trailed away.

“No matter, but we should be on our way, Farmer Atley” said Catherine.

Atley looked down at the men, touched his hat in farewell and clicked his tongue. Daisy lurched forward and Catherine offered a tight smile to the two men. They picked up their sacks, slung them over their shoulders and trudged onwards.

“Not the kind of men you’d want to meet on a dark night,” mumbled Atley.

“No indeed,” she responded as she pulled the hood back over her head and snuggled against the backboard.

They passed several people carrying baskets of rabbits, chickens and ferrets, but Atley did not stop. Most just called a greeting and stepped aside for the cart.

The last mile was the most difficult as it was a long, arduous uphill climb from the depths of Hockley Woods. Atley gently encouraged his ox up the incline using a lash on the animal’s rump and making low, guttural noises deep in his throat. The animal seemed to respond by working even harder and at last they crested the hill and left the darkness of Hockley Woods behind them. A stone marker at the side of the track told them they were one mile from Hadleigh and, as they topped the hill she could just make out the white smoke spiraling from the chimneys in the distant village. Catherine could see that Hadleigh Castle had been built on the highest point of the land, its towers looming again the Thames Estuary in the distance.

Realizing she would be at the castle within the hour, Catherine sighed aloud. The sigh caused the farmer to turn in her direction but did not say a word.

Chapter 6

People converged on the village of Hadleigh from all directions and met at the crossroad. Several men pushed hand carts; others carried wooden cages with fowl and rabbits they hoped to sell at market. Other men led horses and goats. Atley recognized someone who was leading a large black and white bull along by a ring through its nose. The farmer kept yanking his bull that steadfastly held his ground.

Atley called out to the farmer. “You still trying to sell that useless bull of yours?” The farmer yelled something Catherine did not understand, and both men laughed loudly.

“Well, here we are Sister Catherine – arrived in one piece.” Atley climbed down immediately and quickly rounded the cart to help Catherine. She placed one hand in his and the other on the cart to steady herself as she stepped lightly to the ground. Looking down, she saw the caked mud around the bottom of her habit. She groaned aloud. Some of the mud had dried and could easily be rubbed off, but in other places, the mud was so thick it hung in clumps that would take hours to dry. Looking about her, the streets were still wet from the recent snow and rain, and every so often there was a pile of steaming dung on the cobbled road. She decided it was pointless trying to keep clean for the rest of her journey and turned towards the farmer with a ready smile.

“Thank you so much for helping me this morning. I must admit, I was very grateful of your companionship when we came across those two rouges.”

Atley ignored her comment and turned back to the cart to get her basket. He handed it to her shaking it slightly as if trying to gauge the contents.

“It’s my pleasure to help you. Don’t forget to say a prayer for me and my family.”

Back in his cart, the farmer looked down at Catherine curiously. “You can reach the castle from those fields over yonder,” he said pointing “There’s a footpath that’ll take you directly to the drawbridge.” And, as if it had been an afterthought. “Whatever your purpose is here Sister, I wish you well.” With that, he took a long draw on his pipe, clicked his tongue and followed the throng of people leading to the marketplace seemingly forgetting his mysterious passenger.

Catherine turned and looked about. It was quiet at this end of the village. It seemed most people had congregated at the other end of the street presumably where the market was taking place. She could see people milling about. The men shook hands and patted each others’ back and the woman embraced and laughed loudly in greeting. It was a pleasant sight and one Catherine had not experienced before – friends meeting friends on market day. She heard a noise close by and saw a man staggering towards her. She stood her ground and he seemed unaware of her presence until the last moment. She could smell the reek of ale on his body as he stumbled on the hard cobbles. He spat out a curse and looked up.

“I beg your pardon Sister,” he said with a smirk. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“And none was taken.” She responded brightly and quickened her pace up Crown Hill. Suddenly, she stopped dead in her tracks. A strange feeling overcame her, a tingling up her spine and she blinked rapidly as the images flooded her mind. She said aloud. “I know this place. I’ve been here before!” She turned this way and that – round and around until she became dizzy. The Market Cross at the intersection with Pig’s Lane – yes! The church at the far end of the street – yes! The Guild Hall built by the cutlers, the distinctive arches so clear in her mind still stood in the center of the High Street – yes! She remembered going to the hall one day, remembered fearfully holding her mother’s hand as her mother bartered back and forth until a price was struck.

The memories brought stinging tears to her

eyes and she almost sank to her knees in despair, but what else was she feeling? Happiness, fear, excitement! Yes, that’s what it was excitement! The memory of her mother now mingled with the smell and noise of the village she remembered as a child. She remembered the roar of the blacksmith’s bellows and his hammer on the anvil. She remembered carts carrying bales of wool from newly shorn sheep, and the other children running in the streets. She suddenly remembered it all – even her mother’s last words.

She had knelt down drawing Catherine close and whispered in her ear, “It’s for the best my love. I’ll come back for you.”

Even as a child of five years old, Catherine still remembered.

She suppressed a sob and swallowed hard.

As the imagines sprang to life, so did the questions. She could not control them. They flooded over her in waves. There were so many things Catherine did not understand. Why did her mother leave her, never to return?

What had happened to her father? What was her connection to this village? She was determined to find out and made a secret pledge that once her mission was complete, she would do her best to find answers to those questions.

She could see her mother’s beautiful milk-white skin, clear blue eyes and high cheekbones. She had a mass of fiery red, curly hair that she wore pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck and held in place with combs.

There was something else that made her special – but what was it? Yes, she remembered now...her mother smelled of lavender. Yes, they harvested the lavender when the heady scent was at its highest. Then they sat together and sewed it into pouches that her mother had embroidered. Those sweet smelling pouches were placed in pockets and in the folds of clean linen to keep it smelling fresh. The memory was so vivid; she could almost smell the delicate scent at this very moment. Pushing her emotions aside, she continued.

As she walked, she noticed the dilapidated crofters’ huts. It was a very poor village, she decided. Surely the Earl could do more to help these parishioners? Curious children stood in the doorways watching her approach. She noticed their poor emaciated bodies covered in rags, weeping sores on their faces and arms, their hair plastered to their heads with grease. None wore shoes and their spindly, filthy legs were bowed from lack of nourishment. The children looked back at her with empty stares as mothers and older children dragged them back inside their homes slamming the door closed. They were wary of strangers, even those of the cloth.

The condition of the children and their pitiful homes reminded Catherine of the luxuries she took for granted: a warm bed, food on the table every day and clothes.

She decided her mother must have had a very good reason for placing her in the priory.

Collecting her breath, she stood for a moment looking down Crown Street towards the magnificent church at the end of the road. She had arrived in good time and should make her way immediately to the castle, but it had been almost six hours since her last prayers and she felt the need to worship. The Earl of Essex could surely wait a few moments more, and on impulse she decided to enter the church to pray.

The sun peaked out from behind the clouds and she could feel the slight warmth on her back, it warmed her spirits.

Chapter 7

With effort, Catherine pushed the heavy door of the magnificent church open. Stepping inside she knew immediately it had been built by the Normans after their conquest. The arches and the Norman spire were easily identifiable although many improvements and repairs had been made over the centuries adding to the beauty. It was built in the customary cross shaped fashion with the altar at the east end. She knew from literature she had read at the priory that these churches were often referred to as “wool churches,” due in part because the money to build and improve them came from the local dignitaries who made their fortune in the lucrative wool trade. The benefactors were rewarded for their generosity with pews for the families’ use, the most influential family taking the first pew closest to the minister. Often the patron’s coat of arms would be carved in the end of the pew facing the aisle forever memorializing the family’s donation.

Catherine set her basket on the black and red tiled floor, and stepped towards the font. Dipping her fingers into the sacred water, she crossed herself, genuflected in the aisle, picked up her basket, and slowly made her way to one of the pews at the back of the church. Taking her rosary from the belt at her waist, she began to pray. As she did so, she had the strangest feeling of being watched. She looked about but could see no other person, and decided it must be her imagination.

Finishing her devotions, she stood and reached down for her basket before moving towards the altar. She had seen a beautiful wooden rood screen that separated the choir from the nave. This one was particularly handsome and it stretched halfway across the church. Taking a closer look, she could see that it was delicately carved with various scenes from the bible. It was an exquisite work of art, and Catherine stood and studied it for several minutes. She slowly walked the full length of the screen, her little boots echoing on the tiles as she admired the carpenter’s skill and expertise. At the end, she saw a small crest carved in the final section of the screen. The crest contained an image of a lion and a unicorn each supporting a shield. Looking up, Catherine saw the coats of arms from many influential families lining the walls. The chancel wall held colorful heraldic plaques and a funeral helm complete with gauntlets, one holding a sword aloft.

As she rounded the last of the pews, she was sure she had seen a movement in the south chancel wall, close to the leper’s squint. It was gone in a flash, and Catherine was left wondering if she had really seen anything at all.

Exiting the church, Catherine pulled the great oak doors closed and latched them. She looked up at the sky.

A large dark cloud now covered the sun and she wrapped her cloak around her shoulders. If she hurried, she might be able to get to the castle before the heaven’s opened up. She picked up her pace as she stepped nimbly onto the cinder path that encircled the church. It was quiet and peaceful in the churchyard except for a few birds that flitted about squawking and marching up and down as if they owned the place. A friendly robin sat perched on a shovel by a newly dug grave.

Catherine moved towards the little bird and marveled at his bravado. As a child, she remembered asking Sister Edith why the little bird had such a bright red chest. Edith told her that when Christ was crucified, a crown of thorns was pushed hard into His head causing the blood to flow. A plain, little brown bird was sitting at His feet and, as some droplets of His blood fell on the bird’s feathers, they turned bright red. The bird would forever be called the robin red breast. It was a sweet answer to an innocent question, but even as a child Catherine did not believe the story.

Continuing down the cinder path, she looked to her left and right noting the names chiseled in the headstones. Some were quite beautifully inscribed with delicate flowers and vines surrounding the families’ names.

Others had the emblem of the deceased’s trade portrayed on the gravestone such as a pair of scissors to indicate the individual had been a tailor or a mallet suggesting the deceased had been a mason. Most were in good condition still standing erect, though some lay on their backs staring up at the sky, the inscriptions faded and loved ones forgotten.

On the far North side of the church she walked past sad little piles of earth marked only by roughly made crosses to signify a person lay beneath. Here and there someone, perhaps a husband, wife or child, had laid a small bunch of wild flowers on the grave. Catherine wondered who had been buried, what they did for a living and what had caused them to be buried in unconsecrated ground. She was glad she had taken the time for prayers because she felt invigorated and set off with a purposeful stride towards the castle.

The ancient footpath from Saint James the Less Church to the castle took Catherine across two fields that were surrounded by high hedgerows of dog’s mercury, wood anemone, holly and mistletoe. The brightness of the red berries blending nicely with the white, waxy berries of the parasitic mistletoe as it supped nourishment from its host bush. Busy with their work, robins and wrens flitted in and out of the prickly walls of the hedgerows, their tiny bodies easily penetrating the dense foliage.

The fields were bare this time of the year with barley stalks sprouting from the furrows. Her feet were cold and wet once more, and unhappily, so was the bottom of her habit. Grumbling, she lifted her skirt and carefully tip toed around the deeper puddles.

Chapter 8

Finally, Catherine had to lean back to take in the full extent of the height of the castle walls. It had been a steady climb across the second field and, as she looked about her, she saw the castle had been built on the highest point in the area. She knew from her studies the location had been chosen not only for its strategic and military advantages, but also to impress other noblemen.

Catherine wished she had listened more carefully to the rumors surrounding the Earl of Essex and his family. Some of the older Sisters spoke in hushed tones and stopped abruptly when she entered the room. She thought nothing of it at the time, but now she wished she had taken an interest and asked questions. If she had, she may have been better prepared for whatever awaited her at the castle.

Looking up, the home of Sir John Humphrey, Earl of Essex, loomed above her and she shivered momentarily.

At the same time, she saw the path met a narrow road that led directly towards the castle. On it were several men and some women talking, laughing, some pushing hand carts piled high with potatoes, turnips and other goods for sale. Others were stooped over as they carried high bundles of wares on their backs. But the overall mood of the people was happy and she merged with them towards the drawbridge that covered the moat. She listened to the chatter about the weather, their families and last year’s harvest. The men did not acknowledge Catherine’s presence other than

giving her a little nod, but the women smiled broadly in greeting.

Without hesitation, the people filed across the drawbridge, their boots and the wheels of their carts echoing underneath. Catherine fell in line wondering what awaited her on the other side. She did not did not see the sentry who now stood before her.

“Good morning Sister. What brings you here on this fine day?”

Catherine’s fingers were cold as she fumbled inside her satchel for the letter of introduction. “My name is Sister Catherine MacDonald.” She handed the letter to the sentry. “This letter is for Sir John Humphrey from Mother Superior, Hedingham Priory. Please see that he gets it immediately.”

The sentry took the letter and looked hard at Catherine. “Welcome Sister, we’ve been expecting you all day; please follow me. My instructions are to take you to the cook immediately on your arrival. I’m sure you would like to warm yourself by the fire and have some food.”

She stepped across the threshold and looked into the eyes of the sentry. He was a tall, angular man, slim and lean with a dark beard and a mass of greasy hair tied back with a piece of twine. His tunic was stained and his boots dirty, but he was polite enough.

He led her through the courtyard, bailey and towards the keep. Catherine was surprised at the size of the castle. She had never seen anything so huge in her life. It was like a small town within the walls. There was a stable, smithy, armory, wheelwright and a butcher. Meat hung on hooks outside the butcher’s shop and fowl of all kind; their feet tied together had been slung over a rail, blood dripped from their beaks.

Catherine looked up at the rounded turrets.

They looked to be more than thirty feet high and, judging by the narrow slits in the walls, Catherine guessed the depth of the wall to be at least six feet. In years past, it must have been a formidable place to attack, but nowadays it was pleasant to listen to the hustle and bustle of merchants going about their business.

“Sister,” called the sentry as he looked back over his shoulder. “Please follow me.” Catherine had to hurry to catch up with him as he pushed a large oak door open. As soon as they entered, the smell of food hit Catherine’s nostrils and she suddenly became hungry. They turned down one corridor and another until they reached the kitchen. The sentry pushed the door open and held it for Catherine.

The cook, Mary Walker was shouting instructions to the servants who scurried around following her orders. She was a rotund lady with wisps of grey hair hanging from her bonnet. She wore a dark green woolen dress and a badly stained muslin apron. The apron had long ties that crossed at the back and tied in the front with a bow. On her feet, she wore wooden clogs that showed considerable wear.

“Mistress Walker, your visitor has arrived,” announced the sentry.

The cook turned towards the door with a smile. “Well, you’re here at last Sister, welcome. How was your journey? You poor thing! Your cloak is wet through and your feet must feel like blocks of ice. Did you cross the fields or take the cart trail? Not that it matters much, we’ve had such bad weather over the last few days, and one way is no better than the other. Oh well, you’re here now. Why not take off your boots and cloak and we’ll do our best to dry them out.

Oh dear, I’m forgetting my manners. I haven’t even introduced myself, Mary Walker,” she nodded towards Catherine.

Mary’s constant chatter was welcomed by Catherine and she suddenly felt better than she had all day.

She took off her boots, set them before the grate, and swung her cloak from her shoulders draping it over a nearby chair.

“There you go,” said Mary as she handed Catherine a mug of warm cider laced with honey. Gratefully, Catherine cupped her hands around it, allowing the contents to flow through her cold body. She was unaware of Mary’s watchful eyes that rarely left Catherine’s face.

Mary went back to her chores but listened intently. She was scraping carrots for the evening meal, her fingers stained orange with the effort. “What’s your name Sister? You look so familiar, have we met before?”

“No, I don’t believe so; I don’t think I’ve ever been to the castle before, although as a child, my mother must have brought me through Hadleigh Village on my way to the priory. It all came back to me today when I saw the church and the Guild Hall. I’ve never been back and have not seen my mother since she left me at the priory fifteen years ago.”

Suddenly, Catherine’s eyes filled with tears and neither woman spoke for a few moments.

Catherine was embarrassed. It was so easy to lose all inhibitions in this warm and safe environment, and she worried that she had already shared too much personal information with a complete stranger. She bit her lower lip to stem the tears and memories. Those things can wait she thought; for now, my duties are to my patient. She put her drink down and stood up quickly. “Here I am telling you my life’s history, and I haven’t even told you my name. Allow me to introduce myself, Sister Catherine MacDonald from Hedingham Priory. I was sent here instead of Sister Edith who usually takes care of such things. Unfortunately, she is ill herself, and has taken to her bed.”

“Well now, that’s most unfortunate for Sister Edith but we’re glad to have you. But where is Sergeant Peckham, may I ask? He should have been at your side. His instructions were clear; he was to accompany a Sister back to the castle.”

“I’m sorry to say he was unfit to travel. When he arrived late yesterday afternoon, he was slightly feverish, and we assumed he was hot and flustered from his journey. It was not until this morning that we realized how bad he is – he certainly was in no condition to travel. He has some kind of malady and needs to rest. The Sisters will take good care of him and I’m sure he will be back in a day or two. During the journey, his horse lost a shoe and she is now lame. We don’t have a blacksmith nearby.…” Catherine did not finish the sentence.

Chapter 9

They arrived at the patient’s bedroom door and entered quietly. Catherine looked around the small room noting a fire burned brightly in the grate. It gave off some warmth and a gentle glow, but she needed more light. The room was sparsely furnished with the bare necessities of living. She walked to the small window and drew back the curtains to allow the late afternoon sun to stream through the window. She turned to look at the young woman who appeared to be roughly fifteen or sixteen years of age – no more than a child. She lay on a small cot that was set against the far wall. She was covered by a dark brown blanket; her head nestled in a feather pillow, a wooden crucifix hung on the wall above her head. The bedside table to her right held an unlit candle and a small package, a three legged stool sat against the wall. A washstand and wardrobe completed the meager furnishings.

Catherine began asking questions. “How long did you say she’s been here? Do you have any idea where she came from?”

Mary looked distinctly uncomfortable and fidgeted with her bonnet. “As I said, she arrived about a week ago. Yes, it will be a week tomorrow. It was very early in the morning according to the sentry; she just stood waiting until the drawbridge to be lowered for morning traders and then she crossed with them. She fainted with the effort, and, after the sentry spoke to the Earl, she was brought to me. I wanted to

send her off to the village. There’s a good woman I know and trust who would have cared for the little mite, but the Earl wouldn’t hear of it. I don’t understand his interest in her to be honest, but over the years, he’s often taken in waifs and strays.” Mary looked down at the young woman. “Mind you, he’s taken a particular interest in this one and even tried to speak to her again yesterday, but he can get nothing from her.

All of a sudden, he decided to send Peckham off so late in the day.

She just lays there watching. I’m not even sure if she understands me. I’ve tried to coax her to eat and drink but she takes little interest in food. I’ve wondered if she’s sick in the head to be honest because I’ve heard her mumbling.

Goodness knows what that’s all about. Anyway, the master wants her better, that’s for sure. I’ve done all I can to help.

He’s frustrated – so am I! I’ve got enough to do without being a nursemaid to this little madam here,” she grumbled. “By the way, she has said only one word; she said her name is Alice.

Still, you’re here now and I’m sure she’ll get better soon. I can’t tell you how pleased I am to place her in your capable hands, Sister.”

Catherine winced at Mary’s comment. She placed her basket on the stone floor next to the bed. Mary continued, “She doesn’t appear to have any broken bones and there’s no obvious reasons for her malaise. Anyway Sister, I’ll be off and leave you to it. I’ve run out of ideas myself...and my patience.”

“Let’s see if she will take some food from me.

Would you be so kind as to bring some broth and perhaps I can coax her to drink it?”

“It’s worth a try I suppose.” Mary bustled from the room. Turning towards the table, Catherine pulled the sleeves of her habit up to her elbows and began pouring water into the washbowl. She took a tiny sliver of soap from a pewter dish and began washing the travel grime from her hands. Nest she picked up a towel and dried her hands as she approached the bed.

Immediately, she saw the woman was wide awake and even smiling! Taking the woman’s hands in her own, Catherine returned the smile.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise. I’m here to help you Alice. Will you allow me to do that?”

The woman nodded as if in agreement, her dark eyes suddenly coming to life, eyes that never left Catherine’s face. Her black, curly hair protruded from the white bonnet that was tied at her chin. Her lips were pale, dry and cracked. She was exceedingly beautiful. Her alabaster white skin appeared almost transparent in the light from the window, and it contrasted sharply with the dark circles around

her eyes. They were the only blemish on an otherwise perfect oval face.

At that moment, Mary returned with a tray containing a bowl of soup and a large wedge of bread.

Catherine stepped back from the bed, caught Mary’s eye and nodded towards the girl.

“Oh, my goodness, she’s finally awake is she?

I must say, she looks better than she did when she arrived.”

Mary laid the tray of food on the table. “Her dress appeared to be of good quality, lovely green brocade it was but thick with mud and filth, her head was full of lice and nits, and the smell!” She made an unpleasant face. “She was wearing expensive boots that didn’t appear to fit her very well, I’d say about two sizes too big, but had worn them clean through –they had holes in them as big as walnuts! It took me days to clean her up. She’s wearing a nightdress that belonged to my daughter, God rest her soul.” She nodded towards the corner.

“There are more clothes over there if you need them.

Anyway, she was delirious saying this and that - I couldn’t make head or tail of it. In fact, I couldn’t make sense of anything she said at all except her name. She has a strange accent, one that I just can’t place, somewhere from up north I think. Anyway, I couldn’t understand what she was saying and then I gave up.”

“Before you leave,” Catherine asked, “did she carry nothing on her person?”

“No, nothing except a small book wrapped in an oilcloth. I can’t read, but I think it’s a Bible. She was clutching it so fiercely the Earl had to prize it from her hands so that I could wash her. She didn’t want to let it out of her sight. It’s on the table over there.”

Catherine glanced towards the table and saw the package neatly wrapped in an oilcloth, and wondered at its importance to her young patient.

The young woman’s eyes followed Catherine as Mary left the room shutting the door quietly behind her.

Now on their own, the young woman lifted her hand towards Catherine and beckoned her closer. Catherine moved towards the cot and took the childlike hand in her own. She studied it gently turning it over. The woman’s hands were rough with calluses and sores, the nails chipped and broken. Despite Mary’s remark that the woman’s dress and shoes had been of

good quality, these were not the hands of a gentlewoman, but one who worked hard for a living. The girl gestured for Catherine to come even closer, and when she did, she whispered, “Catherine.�

Startled, Catherine took two steps backwards and almost kicked her basket halfway across the room. Her mind raced. Had Mary mentioned her name? No, she had not!

She had simply referred to her as, “Sister.”

“My God,” gasped Catherine. “How did you know my name? I’ve never set eyes on you before this day – how do you know me?”

The girl simply smiled and turned her face away. Catherine ran to the other side of the bed and knelt closely to Alice’s face, gently touching her cheek. “Please, how do you know me?” The woman had closed her eyes.

Catherine stroked her arm, but still there was no response.

Fighting the panic that was rising in her chest, Catherine slid her hand under the blanket and rested it over Alice’s heart.

Her senses were on high alert, and she felt as though time had stopped still. She prayed, “Dear God, please help us. Please let me feel a heartbeat.” But there was nothing! The girl was dead!

Stunned, Catherine kneeled by the bed and held Alice’s hand until the warmth began to fade. Gently placing Alice’s hand on the blanket she stepped towards the fireplace and stared into the fire. She could not believe what had just happened and tried to relive those last vital seconds.

Why did her patient die? The thought and realization made her head swim, and she felt dizzy. With a sob, she dropped to the floor and prayed. It had all happened so fast! What to do?

What to do? Bile rose in her throat and she had to resist the urge to vomit. Her mind racing, she wondered what she could have done differently that would have saved her young patient. Had she wasted time going to the church instead of coming directly to the castle? Surely those few minutes would not have made a difference? The life had simply drained from the young woman once she had looked into Catherine’s eyes – but why? It was as though she had given up on life. The contents of the basket still sat undisturbed on the bedroom floor where she had placed it only minutes earlier. She looked down at it sadly now, and slowly the panic grew. Her whole body began to shake, and her teeth chattered uncontrollably – she could not control herself, and feared she would faint. How would she ever explain it to the Earl? What would Mother

Superior think of her now?

Chapter 10

After calming herself down and collecting her thoughts, Catherine stepped into the corridor and was barely aware of her cold stocking feet touching the stone floor.

Immediately, she heard the banging of pots and pans and Mary’s strident voice giving instructions in the kitchen.

By the time she entered the kitchen, Catherine’s blood had drained from her face; her eyes were now red with tears as she announced the death of the young woman.

“Dead – What do you mean dead? How could she be dead? What did you do? What happened?” Mary wailed loudly and brought her hands to her mouth. “She was smiling but a few minutes ago and I thought she was on the mend! Oh my goodness, I don’t know what the master will say when he hears the news. Did she have a spasm? What shall I tell him?”

Catherine felt the hint of accusation in the cook’s words and responded by trying to take command of the situation. “What’s done is done! We’ll need to summon a priest immediately. Who is your local priest?”

“That would be Father Benedict. He’s been our parish priest for a long time. I’ll send for him right away.”

Mary pulled a dirty rag from the pocket of her apron and blew her nose loudly as she walked from the kitchen. “I’ll have to let the Earl know immediately.”

Aware the kitchen staff was watching her

closely Catherine tried desperately to control her shaking hands and clasped them together in her lap as she sat by the fire. Gently rocking back and forth she replayed the last few minutes in her mind. Was God punishing her for her recent behavior? It was true she had selfishly wished Sister Edith had been well enough to administer to the patient, and when she could not, Catherine had tried to get Mother Superior to send Sister Daphne instead. The sudden image of Daphne’s cruel face brought Catherine to her senses. She had done the best she could under the circumstances, but had she? The nagging doubt continued. A woman had died in her care, that was indisputable, but at least she could try to salvage her self-respect. With a determined step she marched from the kitchen and returned to the bedroom.

As she stood looking down at the little body, Mary and the Earl burst through the door at the same time. He still wore his riding clothes, his long black boots almost touched his knees and his riding britches were flecked with mud. His long, dark hair was pulled back and tied at the nape of his neck with a narrow black silk ribbon. Catherine noticed the graying hair at the temples and the slashes of white in his beard, and guessed him to be of middle age.

He stood in the center of the room, his eyes fixed on Catherine tapping his whip absentmindedly against his leg in an agitated fashion as he looked at her from head to toe. She looked in his direction and then looked away quickly.

For some reason, she felt intimidated by his presence, and a blush rose to her cheeks. Thankfully, Mary broke the tension in the room. She described how Catherine had arrived a little earlier that she had taken some refreshments and then asked to be introduced to her patient. All the while, the Earl’s eyes were transfixed on Catherine’s face. It was not a lustful gaze, but rather a thoughtful and curious look. Mary noticed it too, but the Earl’s first words were harshly put. “What exactly happened here?”

Catherine choked back tears and began to explain her every move since entering the room. The cook nodded in agreement as though verifying Catherine’s account, but then added in her own defense. “I was asked to bring some broth so I left the room briefly. I believed she was in good hands and besides, I had the supper to prepare. She was alive when I left the room, she was very ill – but she was alive.”

The Earl and Mary looked accusingly at Catherine who stammered a response. “I’m afraid I didn’t get a chance to administer to my patient, Sire. You can see I haven’t even opened my basket, she merely spoke to me and died.”

“She spoke and you understood her?” said Mary. “I’ve been with her every day and all I’ve got out of her was her name – Alice. I’ve not been able to understand her gibberish – nor the master here. What did she say to you?”

The Earl walked towards the bed, pursed his lips and looked down at the young woman. “See, she is smiling, even in death she smiles. What did you say to bring a smile to her lips?”

Catherine paused to consider her answer because she did not understand what had happened herself. “I did not say a word Sire. When I turned around, she was watching me. I walked up to the bed and she said just the one word.”

The Earl took a deep breath and sighed. He looked frustrated and annoyed. Catherine looked to Mary for help, but instead she turned away unwilling or unable to give any moral support.

“Well, what did she say?” asked the Earl testily.

“She said my name! She said ‘Catherine’ but how could that be? I’ve never seen her in my life. I thought she must have heard Mary say my name but when I thought back...” she did not finish the sentence. “She must have me confused with somebody else…she was delirious after all. In any event, she said that one word turned her head and took her last breath. I can tell you nothing more – I’m so sorry.”

“I’ll arrange for Father Benedict to come,” said Mary. “Perhaps he can come immediately,” and with that she and the Earl left the room. They left the door slightly ajar and, although they were speaking in hushed tones, she heard the words “It’s a complete mystery!” before they were out of earshot. She quietly closed the door behind them.

The afternoon light was quickly fading and Catherine wondered whether Father Benedict would arrive before day’s end. She was not sure what to do next, but felt she had to do something.

She approached the bed and looked down at the young woman. No, she was not just a young woman anymore, she had a name. “What brought you to Hadleigh Castle, Alice?” Catherine murmured.

Her eyes moved towards the bedside table and the tray with the bowl of broth, now cold, beads of fat floating on its surface. She picked up the tray and placed it by the door. Next, she picked up the washbowl and was about to place it next to the tray when a thought came to her. The cook had brought the water for Catherine to wash her hands, but now she would use it to clean Alice and prepare her for burial.

It was the least she could do because she had been unable to help her in life. She recalled that Mary had washed Alice on her arrival, but that was a week ago. Now, as she gently pulled back the bedclothes, an unpleasant odor drifted from the bed.

It was not until she picked up the towel and wash rag that she realized her hands were shaking. She was about to do something she had never done before, and she was nervous. Was it fear, or simply the lack of experience that made her so uneasy? She had watched Sister Edith perform the task only once before and had not fully appreciated how difficult it must have been until this very moment.

Taking a deep breath, Catherine began to undo the buttons at the neck of Alice’s nightdress. There were stains around the collar where food had dribbled from her mouth. “Let’s find something nice and clean for you to wear,” muttered Catherine as she opened the wardrobe door. She was amazed at the amount of clothing neatly stacked on the shelves. Dresses, bodices, undergarments, bonnets and gloves, some items beautifully embroidered and others with exquisite cutwork were all carefully laid out. She chose a simple ivory colored dress with a matching bonnet and some undergarments, and placed them at the foot of the cot.

She shivered as she did so and looked towards the fire. It was almost out. She had been so preoccupied; she had not noticed the chill in the air. Now she reached for the poker and raked the embers until they glowed. Taking a large log from the basket next to the hearth she placed it on the fire and it immediately sprang to life as did Catherine’s mood.

The fire crackled sending little sparks into the air. Taking a piece of kindling, Catherine used it to light the candle next to the cot.

The candlelight gave the room an eerie glow as Catherine looked down at Alice. It was such a pretty name and she wondered about the dead girl’s parents. Where were they? Were they looking for their child? Did they even care?

After all, she was no more than a child; surely someone missed her? The thought made Catherine sad for a moment but she kept going, mindful of her task. The waste of human life sometimes astounded her, and she wondered why God would allow such misery.

Taking a deep breath, she continued unbuttoning Alice’s nightdress and noted that although it was of good quality, it was well worn. The linen was threadbare in places, especially under the arms. Had Mary made this for her daughter thought Catherine? She noted several rows of pin tucks had been removed on the bodice, sleeves and skirt, usually an indication of efforts to extend the useful life of a garment. She removed the girl’s nightcap, and a pair of small tortoiseshell combs that she placed on the bedside table.

She began her task by gingerly drawing the nightdress up Alice’s body. A feeling of unease flooded over Catherine, but still she continued. Folding the cloth as she went, she lifted Alice’s legs and hips finally reaching her waist. As she did so, she gasped aloud. Around the abdomen, the pure white silky skin was laced with the telltale purple stretch marks of motherhood! Alice’s body showed the signs of at least one pregnancy. Although she was barely old enough for marriage, it was still a surprise. Catherine considered her options. Should she quickly wash Alice’s body, dress her and not say a word or approach Mary?

Catherine pondered the question. Perhaps a baby was left somewhere? She had to tell someone! She would quietly speak to Mary and together they would decide what to do.

She struggled to remove the nightdress pulling one arm through and then the other until they were both free.

Tossing it to the floor, she pushed the stool farther away so that she could sit for a moment and regain her composure. She had not anticipated the amount of strength and effort it would take to remove the garment. She could imagine Mary’s strong arms lifting and maneuvering Alice’s body without any trouble, but Catherine was at a distinct disadvantage because

of her own small stature. She sat quietly resting before she continued her task.

After a few moments, she sighed to herself as she dipped the rag in the washbowl and rubbed it on the soap until a little lather appeared. Starting at Alice’s face, she began working down the body. Once again she became aware of the beautiful bone structure, the extraordinarily high cheek bones and the deeply set eyes and full mouth that gave Alice an almost haughty air. Lathering and rinsing as she went, Catherine saw that the breasts too showed evidence of motherhood. They had a density and fullness suggesting she might have nursed a child recently. When she reached Alice’s stomach, she could see the outline of two large bruises, one in the center of her stomach, the other on her left side. Now green and yellow, the unsightly contusions must have caused considerable pain to the young woman and Catherine was sad to think Alice had been hurt in some way just weeks before she had passed away.

It took all of Catherine’s strength to get the clean dress and undergarments in place and she sat down exhausted. Her duty almost done, she brushed Alice’s hair and returned the combs exactly as she had found them. Then she placed a clean bonnet on her young head gently pushing the mass of dark, unruly hair inside.

She was satisfied with her work and felt as though she had done the best she could for her young charge.

Her spirit had improved and she began collecting things to return to Mary. Picking up the soiled nightdress, she inadvertently knocked the bedside table toppling the package to the floor. The oilcloth spilled open and out tumbled a black, leather bound Bible. It was beautifully inscribed with golden text on the front and spine. Curiously, she picked it up and opened it to the inside leaf. There, hardly discernable, was a crest of a lion and a unicorn each supporting a shield. She had seen that crest in the church, she was sure. The Bible was in poor condition with many pages loose and protruding. She turned the pages almost reverently and was nearly at the end when suddenly, a lock of red hair fell from the back pages.

Almost at the same time, someone knocked on the door, and, without giving it a second thought, Catherine quickly scooped up the lock of hair, returned it to the Bible, wrapped it in the cloth and placed it in the pocket of her habit just as Father

Benedict knocked a second time.

Chapter 11

Catherine moved quickly to the door, opened it and stepped back as Father Benedict entered the room. He was a strange little man with a ruddy complexion and pale, watchful eyes. He walked with a slight limp dragging his left leg to one side. His shoulder length white hair was pulled into a periwinkle at the nape of his neck. He had a large hump on his back and she watched it rise and fall with his labored breath. She felt sorry to have called him out so late. He turned towards her, and with some difficulty lifted his head high to look directly into her eyes. He squinted at first and then opened his eyes fully in surprise.

“Ah, what do we have here? I expected to see Sister Edith. Is she unwell?”

“Yes, she was taken ill a week before the messenger arrived. I’m Sister Catherine MacDonald. I’m sorry you’ve been called out so late in the evening Father. ” She stepped backwards, allowing Father Benedict to approach the cot.

He smiled kindly and took two steps towards Catherine, and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I can see you’re upset. Don’t be too hard on yourself, my child. We cannot control these things you know. This wouldn’t have been easy even for Sister Edith. Now, let us put Alice’s soul to rest,” and with that, the priest took his Bible from his bag, and placed it on the bed.

So, the priest already knows Alice’s name, thought Catherine. That must mean he had spoken with either Mary or the Earl, or both! What else had they shared with him?

“She was so young. What do we know of this young woman?” he asked.

“We know very little I’m afraid. I asked Mary and Sir John, but neither seems to know why she came here and where she came from. She had obviously spent quite some time traveling because her clothes and shoes were in such poor condition, Mary had to burn them. Over the past week, all that’s been discovered is her Christian name, but no surname. At one point, Alice became delirious and spoke in a dialect Mary could not understand. She said only one word at the end.”

“And what did she say?” The priest waited on a response.

“Well, I must admit…it was rather a curious comment and it’s a mystery to us all…but she said my name!

Can you believe that? I thought at first she’d heard Mary say it, but I was wrong. Perhaps she’s mistaken me for someone else. I was about to encourage her to take a little broth but she smiled and slipped quietly away.”

Father Benedict looked intently at Catherine and seemed to consider his next words carefully. “We have plenty of time to discuss Alice’s final word. We should now put her soul to rest.” He began a prayer. “For the repose of her soul and for the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, may they rest in peace, Amen.”

After the brief prayer, Father Benedict turned towards Catherine. “Sir John has asked us to join him in the Great Hall for supper,” he said solemnly.

“Me? What on earth would the Earl have to say to me?”

“We should not keep him waiting.”

They walked together to the Great Hall without uttering a single word. Was she to be reprimanded? It was not as though she had tried to help Alice and failed. She had not been given the chance. It was simply not fair! If the Earl was about to lay the blame of Alice’s death at her feet, then she would defend herself. She had done nothing wrong, but that did not stop her wringing her hands as she walked down the corridor.

They entered the hall to see Sir John sitting by a huge, walk-in fireplace. He was deep in thought staring into the flames, absentmindedly stroking the largest of his wolfhounds who leaning against his leg.

“Please,” said the Earl, “come, come and sit down.”

They each took a seat close to the fire and still Catherine could not stop her hands from shaking.

Catherine took a deep breath and looked around the hall. There were huge rugs on the stone floors and various animal skins. The hall was beautifully furnished; she had never seen such luxury! Glorious tapestries filled the walls, coats of arms and colorful pennants hung from the exposed beams. A full set of armor stood menacingly against the north wall – she was brought back to reality by Sir John’s voice.

“Thank you for coming Sister. It’s been a long and difficult day for us all, but for you in particular.” His voice faded away and he looked at her intently. Catherine could feel her heart pounding so furiously she felt sure it would jump from her chest. What was all this about? She did not like the feeling. They knew something she did not, and it made her uncomfortable. The Earl continued.

“When I first saw you this afternoon, I was almost speechless. Your image brought back memories from long, long ago, memories I wish had stayed buried. I’m sure you think this meeting concerns your young patient, but I assure you it does not. What happened to her is a mystery that perhaps we’ll never understand. No, this meeting is about you. I suspect Mother Superior had an ulterior motive for sending you instead of one of the other Sisters Catherine.

Perhaps she is giving me an opportunity to put things right between us.”

“What do you mean?” Catherine’s mouth dropped open. “Put things right – I’ve never set eyes on you in my life!”

“Oh, but you have, Catherine, you just don’t remember.” The Earl reached for his wine and took a long draught. He looked towards the priest and Catherine and asked, “Would you like some refreshments before we begin?”

Catherine merely shook her head numbly unable to say a word; the priest did not answer.

“I don’t know where to begin except at the beginning, so allow me to say my piece and then, if you have questions, keep them until the very end and I will do my best to answer them. Will you do that for me?”

Catherine clutched the arms of the chair fiercely and nodded numbly.

“I do not know,” continued the Earl, “why Alice came to Hadleigh, but it was she who brought you here to us, and I see that as a good omen.” He looked over to Father Benedict smiled ruefully and said, “I ask that you correct me if my memory fails.”

The priest nodded and Sir John continued his narrative. “I first became aware of your mother when she arrived in the village in the year of our Lord 1625. The village was full of gossip about a young family and the terrible tragedy they had suffered. It seemed they had travelled from their home in Scotland to begin a new life in the south of England.” The Earl spoke slowly waiting for Catherine to absorb the information. “Their names were Ian and Margaret MacDonald and they had one child, a little girl called Catherine.”

At this, Catherine brought both hands to her face and began to cry softly.

“Ian’s father, Alistair MacDonald, had travelled south several years earlier and had built up a lucrative wool trade in London. His business flourished but an outbreak of plague caused him to move from the City to the countryside. He sold everything except two carts, three of his best ewes and two young sheep, and set out for Essex with one young man to assist him. He heard land was cheap in Essex and the marshlands and pastures were rich and plentiful. The first year he did very well with two lambs from each ewe, the following year he did even better, so he sent for his son and family. They left Scotland in high spirits, but their journey ended in disaster.”

Catherine felt disconnected but mesmerized at the same time. She could hardly believe what was happening.

She could hardly believe her ears and was gripping the arm rests so tightly, her knuckles had turned white.

“On route, the little family was attacked and robbed of their meager belongings. Ian MacDonald fought bravely but he was outnumbered and mortally wounded during the struggle. He died in the depths of Hockley Woods, which you must have passed through on your way here.

Margaret, your mother walked to Hadleigh half dragging, half carrying her child – you Catherine. Later, some men from the

village went by cart to collect your father’s body and brought it back to Hadleigh. He is buried here at Saint James the Less Church. Your mother was reacquainted with her father-in-law, but alas, his fortune was failing and he was broken hearted by the death of his son. I believe it was too much for the poor man because he died within a few months.�

The Earl reached for his tankard and Father Benedict continued. “Your mother tried unsuccessfully to find work to support you both, but she had no skills. She could not weave and didn’t possess the strength to work in the fields.

However, she was a well educated woman who could read and write Latin, and so the Earl here took her in as a tutor to his young son, Harold. You both stayed here at the castle for over three months until…” He was obviously unsure how to proceed and looked to the Earl to finish.

“Unfortunately, my wife Maude was a very jealous woman and resented your mother’s presence immediately. The jealousy was partly because our son, Harold, became very attached to your mother and enjoyed his daily lessons. I liked her company too. She entertained us with tales of her family and life in Scotland. She was an interesting woman who could discuss literature, the arts and engage in all aspects of commerce. She had a way of making one feel as though they were the most important person in the room,” he said wistfully. “But life became unbearable for everyone involved. Maude complained constantly. The constant bickering, arguments and gossiping became unbearable for everyone. In fact, the atmosphere was so bad, I had to ask your mother to leave,” he said sadly.

The priest picked up the story. “Margaret came to me the following day. She was distraught and terribly unhappy. She looked awful! She said she’d been awake all night trying to decide what to do – where she would go. How she would feed and clothe you. She decided the best thing would be to return to her family in Scotland, but she did not want to take you on such a long and arduous journey so soon after the horrific attack. She felt it would be difficult enough for a grown woman without a man for protection, let alone a small child. She asked if I could place you somewhere until her family could collect you. I suggested Hedingham Priory, where I knew you would be well looked after. I knew Mother Superior would take good care of you and the Sisters would become your family until a member of your own family could claim you.”

Catherine was dumbstruck. Now it all made sense. She had felt uncomfortable as soon as she entered Hockey Woods. Now she knew the truth!

As if sensing Catherine’s distress, one of the wolfhounds slowly stood, stretched his legs lazily and sauntered over to Catherine placing his large head heavily in her lap.

“Toby seems to have taken a liking to you,” said the Earl with a smile. It was a welcome distraction for Catherine and she absentmindedly scratched Toby behind his ears. His hind leg began to twitch uncontrollably and he looked up at her, his large brown eyes meeting hers. She smiled down to him.

“That’s just about all we know. There is no more. There’s still the mystery of Alice and how she knew your name. Perhaps Margaret was kind to her, or tutored her in some village on her way to Scotland. In any event, their lives crossed at some point, and Alice felt the need to seek you out. With regard to Alice calling you by your Christian name – there is no mystery there – you are the image of your mother. Alice must have felt as I did this afternoon when I first set eyes on you. What has happened to your mother after she left here, I do not know. I wish we could help you, but you know as much as we do at this moment. But, I can see from your face this news has been too much for you. Would you like to retire for the evening? I will arrange for some food to be sent to your room.”

“Thank you Sire, I should like that very much.

Will you please excuse me?”

The Earl nodded in agreement. “Mary has prepared a room for you in the east wing. It has been a long day for you and you will have another tomorrow. Alice’s funeral will be held at midday, after which I will arrange a cart and driver to return you to the priory.”

Catherine stood shakily and feared she was about to faint.

“Allow me to walk you to your room,” said the priest as he stood and stretched his old bones. He reached down and picked up a candle and cupped the flame as they walked together.

Catherine could hear the gentle padding of Toby’s feet on the flagstones. She looked over her shoulder and smiled. It seemed she had found a friend at last.

Chapter 12

Father Benedict walked slightly ahead of Catherine, his silhouette dancing off the stone walls. He turned to look at her. “Like you, I’m mystified as to why your mother never returned. I often think of her and wonder if she ever reached Scotland, and if she did, why she didn’t send for you.” The priest looked at Catherine’s downcast eyes.

“Please, don’t feel as though you were forgotten by us Catherine. Mother Superior sent word from time to time and kept us apprised of your health, happiness and progress. We were pleased when you took the veil and felt sure you would be happy there for the rest of your life – perhaps becoming Mother Superior one day. I’m glad Mother Superior sent you here to meet the Earl. It was long overdue!”

They came to a standstill, and Catherine looked into the priest’s rheumy eyes. “Just like the Earl, I was stunned when I saw you this afternoon. The resemblance to your mother is uncanny. You even sound the same – the same inflections in your voice...everything!” he said with a chuckle.

Catherine did not offer a response nor did she try to put the priest at ease. She felt sick to her stomach, and wanted to get to the quietness of her room so she could fully digest the information.

“Forgive me Sister, I have said too much and can see that I have upset you. Perhaps, after a good night’s sleep and consideration, you will have questions for us tomorrow, and we’ll do our best to answer them all. We shouldn’t have left it so long. In the meantime God be with you, my child.”

Mary came ambling down the corridor, her

clogs echoing on the flagstones. She was hot, flustered from the kitchen, her cheeks bright red from the heat. In her hands she held a tray of food. Father Benedict nodded to Mary. “I’ll leave her in your capable hands then Mary,” and he turned to leave.

Mary and Catherine walked into the bedroom.

“As you can see Sister, I’ve lit a good fire for you, and laid out a clean nightdress here on the bed. Over there is a pitcher of water, a washbasin and some clean clothes.”

Mary stood awkwardly waiting for some comment from Catherine. “I assumed you wouldn’t want to dine with the Earl and Father Benedict. I have to admit, I overheard some of the conversation. I was about to enter the hall but then thought better of it and prepared this tray instead.

I’m so sorry for you Sister. To hear about your poor family like that must have been a terrible shock.”

Catherine was touched and fearful she would burst into tears if she tried to respond. Instead, she looked around the room. “You’ve been most kind to me Mary, thank you. I very much appreciate your thoughtfulness and concern.”

“On the contrary, I’m glad to be of help – you’ve brought some excitement to this dull old place,” she said with a sly smile. “But please, come to the kitchen if you need anything else,” and with that she turned to go.

“There is one thing,” said Catherine. “Did you know my mother and do you remember me?”

“I did not Sister; it was long before my time.

But I remember hearing about the beautiful woman with the red hair and her little child who were housed in the east wing far from the other people at the castle. I must admit, when you walked into the kitchen...I did wonder. Now, you need to eat and rest. You’ve had a long day and tomorrow will be much of the same.”

Catherine felt as though she were in a trance.

She looked around the room taking in every detail. Mary had done her best to provide her with all she would need. She drew a chair to the table by the fire and began picking at her food, but had little appetite for the cold mutton and bread.

Lifting a cup of spiced cider to her lips, she moved the chair closer to the fireplace, stared into the flames as they licked over the logs and she rocked back and forth. She tried to imagine her mother and herself as a child, sitting in a room just like this talking by the firelight, but she could remember nothing of the kind and went to bed miserable.

The night was full of dreadful dreams and Catherine awoke many times. Each time, she snuggled deeper in her blankets and tried desperately to get back to sleep. She could imagine her mother walking the dark corridors, the torches in the sconces creating exaggerated, eerie shadows as the wind howled around the castle walls.

“What were you thinking Mother?” she said aloud. “What were your plans for us? Something must have gone terribly wrong for you not to send for me. What happened to you?”

She could hardly wait for morning and as soon as she saw a faint glimmer of light outside, she quickly washed, dressed and opened the door. She wondered if the wolfhound was still there, but the corridor was empty. She made her way to the kitchen.

Mary appeared as she had the previous day with the exception of a clean linen apron over her dress and a fresh bonnet over her graying hair. She was humming to herself and Catherine was comforted by the sound. She lifted the lid of a black pot that sat in the hot coals. A wonderful smell of fresh bread filled the kitchen and made Catherine’s mouth water immediately. A second black pot sat on a tripod over the open fire and Mary was stirring the contents with a long wooden spoon.

When Mary became aware of Catherine’s presence she smiled broadly. “Sit my dear,” she said as she pulled a chair to the fire with a flourish and poured Catherine a mug of spiced cider. “I insist on a bowl of porridge with a large dollop of quince jam – all grown in my own garden I’m proud to say, and bottled here at this very table.” She said tapping the large wooden table. “That will take care of you for the time being and then I’ll prepare a basket of food for your journey back to the priory.”

Without another word, a bowl was placed in front of Catherine and a small wooden spoon. She stirred the jam into the hot porridge swirling it around as her stomach growled with hunger.

As she was eating, Catherine watched Mary prepare the Earl’s breakfast. Expertly, she sliced large slabs of smoked bacon and placed them in a pan. They sizzled and

spat fat on the open fire causing little sparks to fly through the air. The smell was absolutely wonderful and Catherine’s mouth began to water again. Instead, she plopped a spoonful of porridge in her mouth and hoped that would do. Taking a deep breath, she plunged ahead with her questions. Questions she knew Mary would probably find too uncomfortable to answer.

“While I was waiting for Father Benedict to arrive yesterday, I prepared Alice for burial. I washed her body and brushed her hair, and then I took a dress and bonnet from the cupboard.” Catherine waited for a comment, but none came. “I couldn’t help but notice she had given birth to at least one child. Surely you must have noticed? I’m concerned for the child since it will now be motherless. Has there been any talk of a new baby in town?”

Undaunted, Mary did not stop what she was doing but looked over to where Catherine sat. “Many young women have children – in and out of marriage. It’s the way of the world, I’m afraid. Mustn’t judge the poor girl for that – it could happen to anyone, she just got unlucky, that’s the way I see it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get to the root cellar and organize lunch.”

Mary’s answer disturbed Catherine more than she was prepared to admit. What would any girl do under such circumstances? Surely she would seek the help of her family and beg them to care for her. But what had happened to Alice and what had happened to her baby? Was there a child out there somewhere who missed its mother?

Catherine’s heart ached, for the baby and for herself.

Chapter 13

As she was finishing breakfast, Catherine suddenly became aware that she still had Alice’s Bible in her pocket. “I should give it back,” she said aloud and a kitchen maid looked in her direction. On impulse, she hurriedly made her way to Alice’s room. She was upset to find the cot empty and stripped of bedclothes. A chambermaid was rolling the sheets into a bundle and carrying them out the door when Catherine arrived. She turned towards Catherine with a sullen look on her face.

“What happened to the young woman?” asked Catherine.

“The Earl’s men came for her a little while ago, I expect she’s at the church by now.”

Catherine picked up her skirts and raced towards the courtyard, her wimple flying about her head as she ran. She had hoped to place the Bible in Alice’s hands, where it belonged. If only she had thought of it earlier in the morning. Gasping, she reached the courtyard to see the casket had already been sealed and was being loaded onto the cart by four men.

The Earl looked at Catherine with surprise.

“My goodness Sister, what brings you here in such a hurry?”

Miserably, Catherine knew she could not tell the truth. She wondered, not for the first time, why she had taken the Bible in the first place. It had been the wrong thing to do and she knew it.

“I, I,” stammered Catherine, “I was surprised when I found the cot empty, that’s all. I was scared I would miss the service.”

The Earl eyed Catherine, “Fear not, we’re just preparing the cart. I would have sent for you in good time, you shouldn’t have worried yourself so. Soon, we will lay this poor unfortunate woman to rest, and you can be on your way back to the priory as though none of this had ever happened.

Albert here will escort you to ensure your safety; he’s one of my best men. She looked over to the tall, gaunt young man standing beside the cart. Albert touched his hat awkwardly in greeting, and smiled a generous, warm smile.

“We’ll be ready to leave soon after the burial Sister. I trust you’ll be ready?” offered Albert.

Catherine returned to her room to and placed her belongings by the door. She met Mary in the kitchen giving instruction to the kitchen help. “Everything’s cooking nicely; watch over my pots carefully until I return. Don’t let anything burn! Do you hear me.” she scolded.

At noon, the little procession left the castle.

The Earl sat astride his spectacular gray and white gelding and led the way, closely followed by the oxen and cart carrying the casket. Catherine and Mary followed closely behind the cart, and four men followed up in the rear with other mourners. They walked through the gate, across the drawbridge and down towards the church. As they walked, some men in the fields removed their hats and held them to their chests as a show of respect. At the church, the driver brought the cart to a standstill as close to the churchyard as possible, and the four men moved forward to collect the casket.

Father Benedict met the group by the church doors and instructed the men to take the casket to the north side of the church. “You understand of course that since we know nothing of this woman, she must be buried in unconsecrated ground,” said the priest. The Earl and Catherine nodded solemnly as the sad little congregation followed the men and the casket along the cinder path to the rear of the church.

They came to a standstill at a newly dug grave with wooden planks and two stout ropes straddling the opening. The casket was placed on the wooden planks and the men stepped reverently backwards, keeping their hands by their sides and their heads bowed.

The short service was over almost before it began, and Father Benedict gestured to the men to finish up their work. Two men picked up the ends of the ropes as the other men pulled the planks away, and the casket slowly made its way deep into the ground. It was not the first funeral Catherine had attended, but for some reason she felt terribly sad as she stared down into the dark hole. “You are a mystery, Alice,” she thought.

The Earl brought Catherine back to her senses.

“It seems that cook has prepared some food for your journey Sister. If you will be kind enough to follow me back to the castle, we can pack the cart, feed and water the oxen and then you and Albert can be on your way. But please, do not leave without seeing me first because I have a letter for you to take to Mother Superior.” He did not wait for a respond and spun his horse around immediately and cantered back to the castle.

Catherine stood at the graveside and noticed two of the men who had helped earlier had appeared again, shovels in hand. Without a word, they began filling the grave and Catherine stepped back to give them room. One of the men had brought a simple wooden cross and, when they had finished their work he unceremoniously pushed it into the newly turned earth. Their work complete, the men took two steps back, touched their caps and bowed their heads slightly before walking away without uttering a word.

Sadness filled Catherine’s empty heart. The experience of the last twenty-four hours had left her confused and full of questions. She looked around and saw a cluster of snowdrops under a nearby bush. Their pretty bell shaped petals would suit Catherine’s needs nicely and she bent down and carefully picked a small bunch placing them reverently on the mound of black soil. This gave her more pleasure than she had imagined, and she followed it with a silent prayer.

The tinkling of a bell brought Catherine to attention. She thought she had heard it yesterday, and now she heard it again. Her basic instinct was to leave quickly but instead she called out, “Who is there? Why do you stay hidden in the bushes, why do you watch me?”

“Forgive me Sister, but I cannot approach you, please allow me to speak from a distance,” answered the leper. “I saw you when you arrived in the village yesterday, and I’ve since listened to the gossip. I am invisible to most people, as you can surely imagine. When they see me, they drive me away with spiteful words, but I assure you that I miss very little! I’d heard you’d come from Hedingham Priory to help the unfortunate young woman who has just been buried.”

The comment stung Catherine momentarily, but she quickly regained her composure and challenged him yet again. “Why do you watch me? There is no need to hide, please come forward?”

As he emerged from his hiding place, Catherine’s hand rose to her mouth. The man could barely walk, most of his fingers were missing, his nose and ears almost completely gone giving him a frightful appearance.

“Let me say my piece quickly Sister, for I see I’ve upset you. I’ve heard you’ve been asking questions about your mother, why she came, and the circumstances of her leaving. I wanted to tell you that I knew your mother and spoke with her just before you both left. You are little Catherine, are you not?”

Catherine was surprised. The man was well spoken and perhaps had once held an important position in the community. “Why would you want to help me?”

“I want to help you because your mother helped me. My name is Thomas Manning and many, many years ago, I used to be the Sexton at this church. It was during that time that I met your mother. She was a righteous woman who used to come daily to pray – most times she brought you along too. After prayer, we sometimes talked and I shared with her my struggle to keep my family fed on my meager salary. From then on, I would often find food on the prayer table. Sometimes it was just a few vegetables but other times it was half a loaf or some cheese. I suspected she had given me her own ration of food and I felt guilty, but I was so very grateful to her.”

“The last week or so before you both left the village she seemed unwell and there was sadness about her that I had not seen before. She prayed for longer periods of time and at least on one occasion, I tried to engage her in conversation but she seemed distracted and not her usual self.

On inquiring further, she told me she planned to return to her family in Scotland, but she was concerned about the perils of the road. I later heard that Father Benedict had placed you at Hedingham Priory until your mother’s family could claim you. I never saw either of you again.”

“And what’s happened to you since then, Master Manning?”

The man was unsteady on his feet and she realized how uncomfortable he must be standing unaided.

“Please sit,” she said and Thomas moved towards an overturned gravestone and sat down wearily.

“Some years after your mother left, I became afflicted with leprosy. I kept my disease a secret for as long as possible, but eventually my condition worsened and I was forced to disclose it. I lost my position as Sexton. I was relegated to observing Mass with the other lepers through the squint at the rear of the church. In the end, even my family shunned me fearing they too would get the disease, so I left my home and have lived in the forest for many years. I have to ring my bell to let the village folk know I’m coming so they can hide inside their homes until I pass.

“Some people leave food outside their homes for me, others do not. I’m grateful for their kindness for without it, I couldn’t survive. The disease is quickly ravaging my body as you can see and I fear my life is fading fast, but when I saw you in the church yesterday, it was as if a ray of sunshine had entered my world. You bow your head in prayer just as your mother did and you have many of the same mannerisms. I suspected you were the little Catherine I remembered from all those years ago, but I had to be sure. I hoped and prayed that I would get a few minutes alone with you before you returned to the priory so that I could tell you what I knew. The gossip in the village is that your mother was unhappy at the castle and went home to be with her family in Scotland, if so, why did she not send for you?”

The question stung Catherine. “That is something I plan on finding out for myself Master Manning. I thank you kindly for coming forward and seeking me out.

Your information has helped me greatly, but now I need to return to the priory. There is a cart waiting for me.”

“One more thing before you leave, you father’s grave is by the gate, third from the left – close to that of your grandfather.”

Catherine blinked as she considered the information from the leper. Of course, her father and grandfather would have been buried in the local churchyard.

She had been so preoccupied with her own predicament, she not considered the obvious. “Thank you. I will say a prayer over their graves before I leave. Is there anything I can do to help you – some food?”

“No, thank you. I’m off to the village and the charity of others. There’s usually some food outside the almshouses. They’ll take care of me.”

Mournfully, Catherine watched as the man disappeared into the trees. He stumbled and steadied himself against a small sycamore tree. How many she thought live as this man does? Begging for food, their families having disowned them and afraid to touch them. Having to take Holy Communion from outside the church and not participate in the service. To watch their children grow up before their eyes and shun their father. An uncontrollable feeling of melancholy swamped over her. In just a few hours, she would be back at the priory tending to her chickens and goats and going about her daily chores as though nothing had happened. That should have been a comfort to Catherine, but it was not. That life seemed meaningless to her now as she watched the man limp painfully away. Surely there’s something we could do to help these poor people she thought as she made her way down the path.

She sank to her knees by the graves of her father and grandfather and prayed. Her heart was filled with sorrow. She had been robbed of their love, companionship and protection. She was on her own.

Chapter 14

Still reflecting on her encounter with the leper, Catherine made her way to the kitchen to find Mary wrapping a bundle of food in an oilcloth. “This will take care of you until you reach the priory, and I have something else for you too.” With a flourish, she reached behind the table and brought out a thick, dark green woolen cloak trimmed around the hood with white fur. “This is my gift to you Catherine. It belonged to my daughter,” she said with a sad smile “I can’t think of anyone who deserves it better. Besides, you need a warmer cloak that you were wearing on your arrival.”

“I, I don’t think I can take this,” she said. “It’s too fine for me. I cannot accept it.”

“Nonsense, of course you can…it will remind you of your friends here at the castle.”

Catherine stroked the warm cloak, felt its weight in her hands and stroked the soft fur. She would be foolish not to accept such a magnificent gift and besides, she did not want to offend Mary.

“Thank you, thank you, you’ve been so kind to me. I don’t know what I would have done without your help.”

“Not at all Sister, and please do not forget us.

We would dearly love to see you another time, wouldn’t we sire?”

Catherine had not noticed the Earl standing in the corner of the kitchen drinking a tankard of wine.

“Yes, and perhaps next time it will be under better circumstances,” he said wiping his lips with the back of his hand. He placed the tankard on the table and reached inside his tunic.

“Here is the letter for Mother Superior that I

mentioned earlier. Come now, you must be going if Albert is to get you back before dark. Your basket in already in the cart and let me carry that bundle of food for you.�

Catherine hugged Mary, thanked her again and quickly caught up with the Earl.

Falling in step beside him, Catherine tried to thank the Earl for his hospitality, but he would have none of it and simply waved his hand in the air and said, “It was the least I could do. The last few days have been very difficult for everyone,” he said unhappily. “Do you have any questions for me before you leave?

“You’ve said so little about my mother. Is there nothing more you can tell me?”

“No, except I regret the day I allowed her to leave. I should have been firm with Maude because our lives were never the same after she left. Our son missed Margaret terribly…and I did too if I’m to be honest with you. I gave her a paltry sum to help her on her way – and know I should have given her more. I’ll blame myself if any harm has come to her. Harold was devastated when she left; it took months and months for him to settle down. Even now as a grown man, he still remembers her lessons and quotes her often. I expect him home from France soon, within the year at least. He told me recently that he’d given his Bible to your mother.”

Catherine came to a halt. “He gave his Bible to my mother?”

“Yes, it was the most precious thing he owned. I suppose that’s an indication of how fond he was of her.”

A sudden rush of blood came to Catherine’s cheeks.

“You look quite troubled Catherine, is something wrong? What is it?”

“Nothing, it’s just that…I didn’t realize how much she was loved.”

“Yes, although she was here but a few months, there were many people Catherine who took her to their hearts, she was a good woman.”

Albert stood up in readiness as they approached the cart. The Earl had Catherine’s cloak over his arm and he gestured to her to turn her back and he draped it over her shoulders. She could still smell the wine on his breath as he helped her into the cart.

“Farewell, Catherine. I’m glad we had this short time together. Will you come back to see me sometime and give me news of your mother? You have an open invitation to visit the castle.” He smiled in a warm and affectionate way.

Albert flicked his whip on the ox’s rump. The cart lunged forward towards the gatehouse.

As the cart moved slowly forward, Catherine was acutely aware that many things in her life had changed irrevocably. The discovery that she and her mother had lived in the castle for over three months, that she and her mother had eaten food in the kitchen, and shopped in the village of Hadleigh thrilled and excited her beyond belief. She could not remember her early life before joining the priory. It was the only place she had ever known and where she knew she was safe and loved. But now she knew of a different life and a mother who loved her and she had family in Scotland. The thought filled her with happiness and a sense of belonging that she could hardly contain her excitement.

A loud bark from behind the cart made Albert turn his head. “Damn dog is a nuisance. Excuse me Sister for cursing, but one of the Earl’s dogs is chasing the cart.” The wolfhound came alongside Catherine, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth as he ran. “Go back, go back I say,” yelled Albert, but the wolfhound completely ignored him, looked directly at Catherine, and kept running. “He’ll go back eventually,” said Albert absentmindedly, but as Catherine looked down at Toby, she smiled and thought to herself, I’m not so sure.

As the cart rumbled along the winding track, Catherine considered how she would approach Mother Superior. What would she tell her? Everything – surely not!

She would keep her own counsel and think carefully about what she had learned during her stay at the castle. Many of the answers to her questions lay with Mother Superior because she surely knew more than she volunteered. Why had she kept these things from Catherine all these years – what was she hiding? Guiltily, she allowed her hand to slide into the pocket of her habit. There she found the Bible, and it gave her a feeling of comfort. Why it did so – she could not explain. She

smiled as she ran her fingers around the worn leather, and explored the dog eared corners. Yes, she had the courage to confront Mother Superior.

Chapter 15

The journey back to the priory was uneventful.

There were few travelers and no distractions and Catherine felt safe in the company of Albert. He was a capable soldier and filled her with confidence. He sat bolt upright in the cart, alert and pensive, his sword by his side ready for action should it be needed. Catherine used the silence to reflect on the events of the last two days. What she had learned at the castle bothered her greatly and she began to reconsider her plans for the future. She could stay at the priory and continue her life as though nothing had happened, or she could try to find answers to the many questions that tumbled around in her head.

Her quiet contemplation was broken by Albert’s question. “Are you ready to stop for a while Sister? It has been more than two hours since we left the castle.”

She was suddenly aware that she had not been good company for the poor man and therefore smiled brightly.

“Yes, I’m ready, let’s stop here. Shall we have a small fire and warm ourselves before we continue? I’ll lay out the food if you’ll collect some firewood?”

Within minutes, Albert dumped an armful of firewood on the ground and surrounded it with stones. Taking a tinder box from his pocket he lit the fire and soon Catherine saw little wisps of smoke rise into the air followed by yellow flames. Albert rolled a large log towards the fire, rubbed his hands together and then held them palms out towards the flames. Furtively, he looked at Catherine’s face.

“You’ve been very quiet Sister – are you ill?”

“No, I am not unwell. Thank you, Albert.”

“It’s just that – it’s just that…” stuttered Albert. “You looked so unhappy! I didn’t wish to disturb your

privacy but I was wondering‌in any case, you seem a little brighter now. Perhaps some food and drink will help?�

Catherine took a little of the mutton and bread and sipped some water from a flask before answering.

“I’ve not been very good company I’m afraid, but I have much on my mind,” was all she offered him. They sat quietly enjoying their food before Albert excused himself.

She stood for a little while and stretched her legs. It would be good to take something back to the priory she thought to herself, perhaps some mushrooms. What a treat that would be for my Sisters.

Going in the opposite direction to Albert she began searching the damp undergrowth and came upon a cluster of mushrooms under an old oak tree. She picked the mushrooms, placed them in the folds of her skirt, and carried them back towards the cart. All the while, Toby ran at her side as if guarding her every move.

As she approached the clearing, she saw Albert scraping dirt over the fire with his boot to douse the flames. He was wrapping the last of the food and noticed she was carrying something. “See what I have found?” she said proudly. “The Sisters will enjoy these mushrooms.”

“I wondered where you’d gone. I was about to come looking for you. The Earl told me to take extra care of you and see you safely to the priory. We should be on our way,” and then, as if realizing he’d been unduly brusque said, “I have a small wooden box in the back of the cart; you can use that for your mushrooms. Now, we really must get going if we are to reach the priory before dark.” He offered Catherine his hand to help her into the cart.

Before long, they arrived at the moss covered stone wall surrounding the priory and Catherine began to feel uneasy. She was not sure how Mother Superior would react when she told the story of Alice’s death and the disclosures by the priest and Earl about Margaret MacDonald. She felt Mother Superior had not been completely honest and sincere over the years. Well, that was all going to change! She wanted answers to her questions and she would not stop until she was satisfied. Once she had all the information, she would decide what to do.

Albert stopped the cart directly in front of the large arched oak door of the priory, got down and stretched his hand towards Catherine. “Allow me Sister,” he said in his quiet way.

Placing her hand in his, she stepped nimbly from the cart and turned towards him. “We have a comfortable barn where you could spend the night if you wish,” she offered, “and then you could return with Sergeant Peckham if he is well enough to travel.”

“Thank you Sister, but no, my plan is to spend the night at the Crown Inn in Hedingham. I understand they offer a fine roast dinner and a warm bed. I’ll make arrangements to send a smithy to the priory and then Peckham can return to the castle when he’s fit and able. As for me, I shall return to the castle at first light.”

“As you wish,” she responded as he placed the bundle of food and mushrooms at the priory door. Taking the rope in her hands, she rang the bell twice.

Almost immediately she heard movement within the walls as her Sisters came to greet their visitor.

Turning towards the cart she said, “Thank you for your kindness Albert. Please tell the Earl…” but he was already turning the cart towards the village of Hedingham and did her hear her.

Sister Eliza was the first to open the door but soon others grouped around Catherine asking about her journey and her patient. “We didn’t expect to see you so soon – we’re anxious and excited to hear all your news. Is your charge on the mend?”

“Let me refresh myself and speak to Mother Superior first,” said Catherine. “After that, I’ll share with you everything that happened on my journey.”

Catherine was aware that Sister Daphne had sidled up to group. “Well, look at you and your fancy cloak, fur and all! You know Mother Superior doesn’t like to see such obvious displays of grandeur. If I were you, I’d remove it and make my way to Mother Superior’s room immediately.”

“That was my intent.”

The onlookers watched spellbound waiting for

a response from Daphne, but none came.

Suddenly embarrassed, Catherine looked down at her shoes and Daphne enjoyed seeing her obvious discomfort. Seizing the moment, she spitefully inquired further, “Your patient was well enough for you to leave so soon, was she?�

Catherine mumbled a response and fought her way past Daphne and the Sisters towards Mother Superior’s room. She knocked on the door, quickly entered and almost rushed headlong into Mother Superior. “Please, take a moment and calm yourself Sister” said Mother Superior. “Sit, and tell me everything.”

Catherine sat in the chair opposite Mother Superior and handed her the Earl’s letter. Mother Superior set it aside and asked Catherine again to tell her the whole story.

It was almost cathartic for Catherine who felt as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She began at the point of accepting the ride from Farmer Atley, and noted Mother’s Superior’s face showed no signs of annoyance or irritation and so she continued quickly. She told of her arrival at Hadleigh Castle, meeting Alice for the first time and then described the meeting with the Earl and Father Benedict. She finished her story by describing her meeting with Alice and her subsequent death and burial, and finally her meeting with the leper. Mother Superior listened intently without saying a word. She sat with her hands clasped together in her lap watching Catherine’s face intently until she had finished.

“You say the young woman gave her name as Alice? Did she give you or the cook a surname?” Mother Superior asked thoughtfully.

“No, she simply said my name and died. I still don’t know the cause of her death, but her body was bruised.

She was very weak and seemed to lack the will to live.”

Catherine was about to tell Mother Superior about the Bible, but thought better of it, and decided to keep that information to herself. “The whole episode caused so much distress; I don’t know what to do next.”

Mother Superior ignored Catherine’s last comment and asked instead. “You say the Sexton thought your mother unwell before she left for Hedingham?”

“Yes, the poor man is almost at death’s door himself, but he seemed determined to help me.”

They sat quietly for a few moments before Catherine plucked up the courage to speak again.

“Mother Superior, forgive me, but I fear you’ve kept secrets from me all these years. I ask you now to tell me as much as you can about my mother. I know my father died in Hockley Woods. I know my grandfather died soon after. Both are buried in the churchyard.”

With a sigh Mother Superior put her hands on the edge of the table and pushed herself backwards gaining access to her desk drawer.

“It seems as though the time has come as I knew it eventually would,” she said evenly. “Many years have passed and you appeared to be so happy living here with us that I didn’t feel the need to burden you with your past. Now you’re a grown woman and I see your experience at the castle has changed you.” With that, she took the key that hung from her belt and unlocked the drawer. Reaching inside, she retrieved a letter with the seal still intact. “I believe this will explain everything Catherine,” she said and she stood to leave the room.

“Please stay – at least for while,” begged Catherine.

Chapter 16

Catherine reached across the table and took the letter from Mother Superior’s hands.

“I will be honest with you, Catherine, because you have asked for the truth and you deserve to hear it after all this time. You arrived here under extraordinary circumstances and each year I expected a family member would come to claim you. When they did not, I waited another year and another year until finally we find ourselves where we are today. Overall, you’ve appeared happy and contented although I’ve noticed you have a tendency to be willful and headstrong. Some of the older nuns have questioned if you are truly suited to the calling.”

Catherine’s immediate response was one of disappointment and indignation; however she knew there was some truth in what Mother Superior was saying. She also knew Sister Daphne would have done everything she could to put Catherine in a bad light, and she made an effort to explain, but Mother Superior held up her hand for silence.

“What’s done is done Catherine. Surely you must have guessed why I sent you to the castle instead of Sister Daphne?” Catherine was about to speak up and then thought more of it and decided to keep quiet as Mother Superior continued.

“The Earl has kept a watchful eye on your progress since you arrived here. Every year, I have sent a letter advising him of your health and accomplishments. And every year, without fail, he has been most generous to our priory. When he needed help with that poor woman and Sister Edith was so sick, I decided it was a good opportunity for you to meet your benefactor.

“But you’ve asked for the truth and you

deserve to hear it, so let me begin. You arrived here with your mother in the year of our Lord 1625. I believe you were about five years of age at the time. It was springtime as I recall and the days were filled with showers. I wasn’t expecting visitors and was therefore surprised when Father Benedict turned up with you and your Mother in tow. You were all soaked through to the skin, tired and hungry after your journey from Hadleigh Castle. I could see your mother was fatigued but after some food and rest she seemed to rally a little, and only then did they explain the reason for their visit. Evidently, your mother wanted to return to Scotland but felt the journey would be too much for you. I agreed to take you in until the summer months when she would send a family member to collect you.

It was a tearful parting and before your mother left, she wrote the letter that you now hold in your hands Catherine. I was to give you the letter only if she did not return for you. Each year I expected her to return and when she didn’t…I prayed she would the following year. The years have passed so quickly” Mother Superior shook her head disbelievingly “I should have given it to you sooner. It’s my mistake, nobody else is to blame. I’ve been a foolish and selfish old woman to keep you here.”

I’ll leave you now,” and she hurried from the room.

The room suddenly felt very warm and claustrophobic so Catherine pulled the heavy green cloak from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Breaking the seal, she opened the letter with trepidation. What would it say? What would she discover? She began reading.

My Dear Catherine, If you are reading this letter I have not returned for you. I had hoped you would never read it because it can only mean my plan has failed. I left you at the priory while I made my way to my family’s home in Stranraer, Scotland. It is a long and dangerous journey, and one I felt I should make alone. I planned on sending my father or brother to collect you as soon as I arrived in Scotland.

Catherine took a deep breath as she looked at her mother’s handwriting so similar to her own in so many ways. She could hardly believe this letter had been in Mother Superior’s desk all these years! She felt cheated and angry.

She knew those years were lost forever and what had she accomplished during that time, absolutely nothing. Catherine was beside herself with fury as she looked at her mother’s beautifully scripted penmanship.

I know Mother Superior will have told you by now what happened but I wanted you to hear it in my own words – from mother to daughter!

I married your father, Ian MacDonald, in nd

Scotland on 22 January1619 and you were born the following year. Although he had lived in Scotland for many years, he was an unhappy man always searching for new challenges. He was also a proud man who did not relish the help of my family, and so he decided to travel south to find his father in London where he had built up a good business in the wool trade. You were just five years old but strong enough to make such a journey. The five-hundred mile journey from Scotland to London took 8 weeks and we spent most of what little money we had on food and lodging.

When we arrived in London, we learned that your grandfather had moved to the village of Hadleigh, and so once more we set out in search of him. Just inside Hockley Woods we were attacked and robbed of our belongings including our cart and oxen. I am distressed to tell you that your father was fatally injured and died there in the woods. I did not know what to do but wrapped you in his cloak and we made our way to Hadleigh village. Later, your grandfather and some men from the village took a cart to collect your father’s body. We buried him in the churchyard of St. James the Less the following day. I believe the death of his son; his failing business and the burden of two extra mouths to feed were too much for your grandfather, for he died within months. His cottage was sold and the little money we received paid off his debts. I tried to find work but times were hard and I had little practical experience. I did have one thing to offer,

and that was my education. I was taught to read and write Latin as a young child, and that education has served me well through the years. When I heard the Earl of Essex needed a tutor for his young son, Harold, I went to the castle. The Earl, a kind and decent man took us in immediately.

I sensed that not all was well after just a few days. The Earl’s wife, Maude, made it plain she resented my presence in the castle. The weeks tuned into months and the situation at the castle became intolerable. In the end, I was asked to leave, but what to do next? I spoke with Father Benedict and he suggested that I return to Scotland and the bosom of my family, but what to do with you? I feared the recent journey and the events of your father’s death would be too much for you to bear, so we decided on a plan to leave you at Hedingham Priory for a short while so I could better make the journey alone. Perhaps that was not the right decision but, at the time, I felt it was for the best.

The Earl has given me some clothes and money to help with my journey and has promised to watch over you while I am away. I had hoped to be reunited with you within a few months, but, if you are reading this letter, then I know I have failed you. But please, know that I love you deeply and think of you every day of my life. You will never be far from my heart.

Your loving Mother, Margaret MacDonald.

Catherine sat with the letter in her hands.

Sadness engulfed her but the anger was still close at hand as tears streamed down her cheeks. The letter confirmed what the Earl and priest had told her but there were still so many things she did not understand. Had her mother fallen ill on the return journey? What on earth could have been more important to a mother than reclaiming her child? What was the connection between her mother and Alice? The nagging thoughts tumbled around in Catherine’s head as she considered the questions.

Chapter 17

Catherine was still holding the letter in her hands when she heard a commotion in the courtyard. Still reeling from the contents, she stuffed it into her pocket when she heard one of the Sisters cry out.

“Where did it come from?” said one Sister.

“It just appeared,” said another. “I went outside to sweep the leaves from the pathway and there it was, lying just where you see it.” A little group of nuns gathered around something lying outside the priory door. “He’ll neither leave nor come inside,” voiced one Sister. “He can’t walk!” murmured another.

Catherine met Mother Superior in the corridor and together they walked towards the commotion. Several nuns were kneeling around something lying on the ground outside the front entrance.

“He’s worn out and trembling,” said one. “He needs food and water? But why is he here?”

Almost without looking, Catherine knew what she would find. There, lying on the ground was Toby, the wolfhound from the castle. His breath labored, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth was covered by white foam.

Catherine knelt beside the dog and whispered his name. He recognized her voice immediately, whined softly and tried to lick her hand. Lifting his head gamely, he made an effort to stand.

“How do you know this animal?” questioned Mother Superior as she arrived on the scene.

“He’s one of the Earl’s dogs. Why he would follow me here is a mystery.”

“Well, he’s certainly seems to have grown attached to you and he obviously needs care,” said Mother

Superior grumpily. “You can add yet another chore to your responsibilities.�

The nuns all looked at each other questioningly. What on earth did Catherine have to do with this wolfhound? All eyes fell upon her and she blushed at the attention.

“Really,” said Sister Daphne, “is there no end to your disruptiveness? Haven’t you caused enough trouble?”

Catherine ignored the comment and looked at her friend Eliza. “Please help me take him to the barn?”

Together the Sisters encouraged Toby to walk the short distance to the barn where he dropped heavily onto on a bed of dry hay.

“Hello Sergeant Peckham,” said Catherine “You look so much better today. At least you have some color in your cheeks. Look here, we have a visitor to keep you company.”

Peckham pulled himself up on one elbow and squinted at the dog. “Why, isn’t that one of the Earl’s dogs?

He’s one of his favorites if I’m not mistaken.”

Catherine nodded, “He followed us from the castle and although Albert tried to make him go back, he obviously didn’t succeed. Now he’s here, tired and hungry and temporarily in my care. When he’s better, perhaps you’ll be able to take him back with you?”

A novice nun appeared at the door. “I thought you might want this,” she said sheepishly as she handed a bowl to Catherine and ran off. Eliza filled the bowl with warm milk from the goat, and placed it near Toby’s head. He eagerly lapped the milk, his pleasure evident by the rhythmic movement of his tail.

Aware that vespers and supper time were quickly approaching, Eliza and Catherine hurriedly covered the dog with a blanket. “Will you watch over him?” asked Catherine.

“Of course, we’ll be good company for each other won’t we boy?” answered Peckham and the two Sisters hurried from the barn.

All eyes watched as Catherine and Eliza raced into the dining room. Sitting quickly on the wooden bench, they kept their eyes cast downwards.

“Thank you for finally giving us the pleasure

of your company, Sisters Catherine and Eliza,� said Daphne sarcastically.

Normally, Catherine would have felt humiliated by Daphne’s comment but not now. This time she steadily met Daphne’s eyes and smiled sweetly, “You are most welcome.”

This exchange brought an excited response from those in the hall, long aware of the antagonism between the two Sisters. Many wished they had the courage to respond to Sister Daphne as Catherine had, but they were too scared.

Mother Superior clapped her hands. She glared first at Catherine and then Daphne. “Let us pray and give thanks for our supper.”

Later, back in her room, Catherine considered her stand against Daphne. It had been uncharacteristic of her and she wondered where she found the courage. What had happened to her over the last two days? After seeing the look on Daphne’s face, Catherine knew there would be trouble.

Lying there on her little cot she smiled to herself at her new found bravery. She felt as though her whole world had been turned upside-down, as indeed it had. So many things were happening that Catherine could barely keep up. But one thing she knew for sure, she had been truly loved by her mother and that gave her inner strength. But, what had become of her mother? It was a mystery that gnawed at her and one she knew she would eventually have to solve.

Over the next few days, Catherine busied herself with her daily chores and used some of her spare time to care for Toby. She bathed his pads which were still crusty with blood and rubbed them with fat to soften them. It was on the third day after her return to the priory that Daphne confronted her in the barn.

“Were you trying to curry favor with Mother Superior? I know you persuaded her to send you to Hadleigh Castle instead of me? Well, are you pleased with yourself now? The woman died in your care. How could you let that happen? What on earth must the Earl think of us?” The words were spat out in such uncontrolled fury and venom that Catherine could hardly believe her ears and she rocked back on her heels. She stood in absolute silence, and tilted her head to one side looking past Daphne. Standing directly behind Daphne was Mother Superior who had listened quietly to the

tirade. Daphne turned quickly and gasped aloud.

“I’m sorry, I, I didn’t see you standing there Mother Superior. It’s just that Sister Catherine drives me to distraction sometimes. She does not complete her work on time, and then rushes to the barn to care for this mongrel.”

Mother Superior did not answer immediately but took a deep breath and said, “I was looking for you Sister Daphne and I thought I might find you here.” She turned abruptly and started to leave. Daphne continued to splutter an apology and tried to explain herself as she ran alongside Mother Superior.

Mother Superior stopped in mid stride and looked over her shoulder and spoke loudly. “I want to see you both in my room in one hour – do not keep me waiting.”

Daphne scowled at Catherine. “Now look at what you’ve done,” she said spitefully, “I hope you’re pleased with yourself.” Catherine did not answer and merely knelt down to attend to Toby. She stroked his large head and he turned towards her. It was uncanny, but the dog appeared to understand her unhappiness as he looked into her eyes. She murmured, “What is to become of me Toby? I wish you could tell me.”

In one hour, both nuns sat outside Mother Superior’s room, never once acknowledging each other’s presence. The waiting was worrisome, for neither Sister could imagine what Mother Superior would say.

The door opened and a very serious looking Mother Superior motioned them inside. She had placed two chairs side by side in front of her little desk, and asked them to sit. They did so and she began.

“I will not tolerate such unpleasantness in this priory,” she said as she looked first at Sister Daphne and then at Catherine. “You are both setting a bad example to the Sisters. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your constant adversarial behavior. With regard to the scene at the barn, I did not witness what was said to incur such wrath from you Sister Daphne; I can only assume you were considerably provoked.” Catherine jumped to her feet to defend herself but Mother Superior raised her hand and motioned for her to remain seated. “I really don’t care what happened before I entered the barn, but I want a promise from both of you that

this backbiting will stop, and that you will try harder to cooperate in the future; will you do that for me?�

They nodded in unison and with that Mother Superior stood to indicate the meeting was over. “Just one moment Sister Catherine, I need a little more of your time.”

Daphne looked nervously over her shoulder as she left the room as Catherine returned to her chair.

“Have you completely absorbed the information in your mother’s letter Catherine? Do you have any questions for me?”

“No, I don’t think so Mother Superior because much of it I knew already. There is still the mystery of what happened to my mother and now there’s Alice too. It eats away at me, especially at night.”

“Do you think this would be a good time to take a leave of absence, to sort things out I mean?”

“Why do you ask that question? It’s because of Sister Daphne isn’t it? You believe her story over mine, I can tell! You’ve always taken her side.” Catherine could hardly say the words without a catch in her throat.

“No, no Catherine, let’s not be silly and impulsive. I’m merely suggesting that this may be a good time for you to consider taking a short leave-of-absence. You can always return at will, but you have to agree you have not been yourself since you returned from the castle. I understand you have many unanswered questions, and I wish I could help you, but regretfully, I cannot. Therefore it might be better for all concerned if you took some time off to allow things to calm down a little.”

Catherine did not answer and suspected there was more to come.

“After all, you did not come here as most young women do, sure of their dedication to the Lord. You were brought here for other reasons and you stayed because there was nowhere else for you to go. But now that you know you have family in Scotland, perhaps you should seek them out. As I say, your absence for a short time would eliminate the friction between yourself and Daphne and give the priory an opportunity to return to normal,” she said with a wry smile.

As soon as the words were uttered, Catherine knew exactly what she would do – it was just a matter of time.

Up until this moment, conflicting loyalties had made it difficult for her to decide on her next step, but now everything became crystal clear. She was deep in thought and almost unaware that Mother Superior was still talking.

“Well, that being said, just take a little time to think everything through carefully. The priory can help you a little financially but if you decide to make the journey, know that you do it with my blessing, and remember…you‘ll always have a home here.”

Catherine had been looking down at her hands. Now she raised her chin and met Mother Superior’s eyes. “There is no need to think about it anymore. I shall leave for Scotland soon.”

Chapter 18

Over the next few days, Catherine busied herself with her chores and tried to keep away from Sister Daphne, but it was almost impossible especially at meal times. The whispering and giggling from the novice nuns annoyed Catherine.

On the third day, Sergeant Peckham got up very early, walked to the village of Boxted and returned with the blacksmith. Within the hour, Margie sported a new shoe and Peckham mounted her ready to leave for Hadleigh Castle.

Seeing Toby lying behind the barn, he called to him. Toby opened one eye but did not bother to lift his head. Peckham pulled on his horse’s reins, turned and walked over to the dog.

“Get up I say. Damn dog. You’re coming with me. Do as you’re told.”

“Please don’t blaspheme,” said Catherine as she walked towards the barn. “And why can’t you leave him here? He is good for the priory, and you know Mother Superior loves the rabbits.”

“I can’t just leave him here, Sister. He’s a valuable dog. I’m sure Albert would have told the Earl and therefore the Earl will expect me to return with him.”

“Somehow, I don’t think he will mind. But I’ll not argue with you Sergeant. You’ll do the right thing I’m sure.”

Whether it was watching Peckham readying for his departure, she did not know, but all of a sudden, Catherine decided she would leave the priory that very day.

Back in her room, Catherine began pulling her personal items together and placed them at the end of her cot.

It did not take long. Two nightdresses, folded carefully were placed at the end of the bed. Next some clean undergarments,

stockings, and a pair of badly worn shoes. They were old but serviceable, and would certainly be good enough if her boots got too wet. She sat looking at the sad little pile of clothes, and questioned her decision. “What if I don’t find my mother,” she said aloud. Immediately, she reprimanded herself. “Well, I won’t know if I stay here, that’s for certain.”

She jumped up on her cot, and lifted the wooden crucifix that hung from a hook over her bed. She wrapped it, the Bible and two candles in an old piece of linen and placed them reverently next to her clothes. Together with her hairbrush and a few hair pins, were her only personal items. Walking towards the washbasin, she poured some water into the bowl, and briskly rubbed her hands together with a sliver of soap.

After washing her face and neck, she ran her finger over the soap again, and brought her finger to her mouth. She stopped momentarily to think. Where had she learned that? Had her mother taught her to clean her teeth? There were so many things she did not know.

The green woolen cloak Mary Walker had given her was hanging on a peg behind the door. She removed it, placed it over her shoulders and walked into the courtyard.

All was quiet, but the bell would ring soon for morning prayers.

The quietness of the morning was disturbed by someone ringing the bell at the priory door. Catherine quickly moved across the courtyard and called. “Who is it? Who calls on the priory?”

“It’s Farmer Cole. I’m delivering beehives for Mother Superior.”

“I’ll be with you in just a moment Farmer Cole,” said Catherine as she walked to the door and pulled it open.

“I apologize for coming so early, but I have many deliveries to make today and I need to get back to the farm as quickly as possible. My wife Molly is expecting our third child, and she is almost at her time. But, if I’m in time for breakfast” he smiled broadly “I wouldn’t say ‘no’ and then I’d be on my way.” He proudly placed three newly woven beehives next to the barn door. “My Molly does a grand job does she not?”

Catherine walked with Farmer Cole to the priory’s kitchen. They were greeted by a young novice who encouraged the farmer to sit at a large wooden table.

Catherine placed a steaming bowl of porridge in front of him, took a scoop of honey and dropped it the mixture. “There,” she said smiling broadly. “It’s your wife’s work that allows us to have such delicious honey throughout the year. I’ll let Mother Superior know you’re here Mr. Cole and perhaps she will be ready to see you by the time you’re finished.”

Catherine met Eliza on the way to Mother Superior’s room. She told her of her plans and immediately, Eliza began to cry.”

“What’s wrong Eliza?” she asked.

“I can’t believe you are leaving us today Catherine and yet you show no signs of unhappiness or remorse at doing so – are we so insignificant to you now?

Have you already dismissed us from your mind – your heart?”

“How could you think such a thing?”

Catherine looked over her shoulder to be sure nobody was listening. But immediately she knew she had been so preoccupied over the past week or so that she had given neither the time nor consideration to her fellow Sisters, especially Eliza. A pang of guilt rose in her chest as she hugged Eliza close to her chest.

“Please forgive me Eliza. I have been selfish and thoughtless. I did not mean to avoid you or cause you any pain. You are my very best friend in the whole world, and I will never forget you. You hold a special place in my heart, one that will never be filled by another soul.” Catherine caught a sob in her throat.

The two friends held hands briefly and then Catherine broke away.

“I need to speak to Mother Superior Eliza; Farmer Cole is here unexpectedly early. I’ve settled him in the kitchen having breakfast, but I need to let Mother Superior know he’s here.”

“Then I’ll walk with you,” said Eliza and she grasped Catherine’s hand before she could change her mind.

They swung their arms in a playful fashion as they had when they were children. Eliza’s arrival at the priory had been similar to that of Catherine with the exception that she had been left as a tiny baby. A local woman had found the child in a fruit basket at the top of Crown Hill. Her gusty wails drew her, the daughter of a blacksmith towards the little bundle wrapped in rags. She was immediately taken to the priory and named Eliza Hill, after the woman who had found her and the location of her discovery.

After advising Mother Superior that Farmer Cole had made his delivery, Catherine told her she planned on leaving soon after breakfast. Mother Superior was surprised.

“I must admit, I didn’t expect it to come so quickly. Please, let us talk about this after breakfast.”

Eliza and Catherine hurried to the dining room, took their places and ate their food in silence. Catherine began having second thoughts after Eliza’s outburst. Surely it could not hurt to postpone her plans for a few days and give her Sisters time to get accustomed to the idea that she was leaving. But, seeing their reaction this morning; she knew the time had come. Many did not return her smile; some barely looked her way afraid that if they did, Daphne’s wrath would find them. She was glad she had already collected her few belongings; she would leave immediately! She excused herself and made her way to her bedroom. A quick departure would be best for everyone she decided.

Catherine looked around her bedroom. This was the only life she had ever known. She was safe, secure here, and she became scared. There was a knock at the door.

Mother Superior entered and looked at the neat package at the end of the cot. “I thought the time had finally arrived, especially after breakfast this morning. I could see the distress in your face. It seems I’ve chosen the right time to give you this.” Mother Superior placed a carpet bag on the cot. “This bag came with me when I arrived at the priory forty years ago, now it can leave with you. Take whatever you need for your journey, but please don’t leave until you’ve seen me. I have something for you.”

After Mother Superior left, Catherine opened the bag and placed her belongings inside. She pulled the wooden handles together, and looped them closed with a large button. She stood for a moment in her room, but did not look back as she closed the door.

Dressed in her green cloak and holding her bag, Catherine’s made her way across the courtyard towards Mother Superior’s room. Her Sisters watched and whispered to each other, and one ran off in the direction of the refectory.

Catherine kept her head high and was soon at Mother Superior’s door. The door opened almost immediately –

Mother Superior had a strange look on her face.

“Are you not feeling well, Mother Superior?”

“Please come in Catherine. There are some things I must tell you, and something I want you to do for me.

“Yes, anything, anything Mother Superior – you know that.”

“May I ask if you would visit a relative of mine? I haven’t heard from my cousin, Reverend Mompesson for many months and his last letter was most upsetting. I worry for him, his family and his parishioners. He administers to his flock in the little village of Eyam, Derbyshire. It would not be too far off your path and it would please me greatly if you could visit and give him my best wishes. Tell him I am praying for him. He will of course provide you with food and shelter, and also help you on your way.”

“Yes of course Mother Superior, I’d be glad to meet him.”

“Also, you’ll need this.” She handed Catherine two rolled pieces of parchment each tied with red ribbon.

“This one is a passport. It tells the authorities who you are, and where you are going. The second is a map to help you locate the priories, nunneries and monasteries on your journey. They will give you food and shelter and this will help.” She handed Catherine a purse containing several coins.

“There isn’t much I’m afraid, but it’s better than nothing.

Now, let us walk to the courtyard together. I have a little surprise for you.”

“A surprise! What on earth could it be?”

“Well, as you know we had an unexpected visit from Farmer Cole this morning. He’s leaving soon to deliver hives to the Reverend Washington in Purleigh, your first stop, and I’ve asked if you may ride with him. You will be able to stay with the Reverend Washington overnight.”

The sight in the courtyard made Catherine’s heart skip a beat. Mother Superior had arranged for every single Sister to collect in the courtyard to bid her farewell.

Catherine was moved to tears and gratefully accepted their good wishes. She discretely avoided Sister Daphne who stood just outside the circle, turned towards Mother Superior and embraced her.

“We’ve said all we need to say Catherine,” whispered Mother Superior in Catherine’s ear. “God bless you my child. May He watch over you?”

Chapter 19

Farmer Cole cleared his throat as if to remind Catherine of his presence and she turned towards him. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand he said, “We’d best get going Sister Catherine. Let me take that bag from you.”

“Thank you kindly,” she said and allowed him to help her into the cart. She looked down at the little group, some of whom were openly crying while others were smiling broadly and waved. She felt as though her heart would break.

Toby raced from behind the group and bolted through the open door of the priory which brought a collective laugh from the group and eased the tension.

“Is he coming too?” inquired the farmer.

“I don’t think we can stop him,” replied Catherine with a little laugh. She looked behind and saw the face of a novice nun slowly disappearing as she closed the large wooden door. First the creaking noise she knew so well, and then the final bang as the priory door swung into place.

She had not heard Cole, who since she had not responded to his comment, repeated it again looking down at the dog. “I expect he will follow for a while and then return to the priory.”

Farmer Cole sat atop his cart and took the reins in his hands. He wore a black heavy coat with a large collar turned up against the brisk morning breeze, and he pulled an old threadbare hat from his pocket and pulled it over his ears.

“I don’t think it’s going to rain today Sister,” he said in his pleasant Essex accent trying to engage Sister Catherine in conversation. “The sun’s high already. No, there will be no rain today. Good, my barley needs some sun – had enough of the rain for a while,” he said. “If you’re chilly

Sister, take this blanket,� he said as he wrestled it from beneath his seat.

With a smile, Catherine accepted the blanket and placed it over her legs. Despite the breeze, she turned her face upwards towards the sun, she felt something she could not explain – and had never experienced before. Was it apprehension about her journey? Was it fear of what she would find? No, she felt exhilarated and dare she admit it – happy! Yes she was happy. How was that possible?

On impulse she reached up and removed her wimple, folded it carefully and placed it on the top of her bag.

Underneath she wore a light muslin cap that was tied under her chin. Small wisps of red curls sprang from the cap here and there, but she made no attempt to confine them and once again turned her face to the sun. The removal of her wimple made Farmer Cole turn his head in her direction, and his mouth fell open, but he did not say a word.

Just then, Toby ran past the horse in a flash causing the horse to whinny and come to a complete standstill. It stood snorting, pawing the ground, its ears pointing forward.

“Sister, if he’s going to keep behaving like that, we’ll never get to Purleigh.” Cole said angrily.

“How long will it take, by the way?”

“We should be there by lunchtime. I’ll not stay long because I need to be on my way to Little Baddow for another delivery of hives, and then I need to get back home. Have you ever visited Purleigh?”

“No, I’ve never have. Can you tell me a little about the village? Have you met Reverend Washington?”

“I can indeed. I deliver goods to Purleigh every few weeks, but it’s really not a village, more like a hamlet in some respects, with just a few houses here and there. There’s an inn called The Bell which is a stone’s throw from the church. I hear Reverend Washington likes to visit the inn daily. It could be a malicious rumor spread by the Parliamentarians,” he lowered his voice considerably “it’s said when he visits the inn, he asks others to join him. The Parliamentarians call him a ‘malignant royalist’ and want to replace him with one of their own. I don’t believe any of it to be truthful. What’s wrong with a little tipple daily? I’ve always found the Reverend Washington and his family to be

kind and honorable people.�

Catherine eyed the farmer discreetly. She knew how dangerous it was to criticize the Parliamentarians.

They had their spies everywhere, nobody was safe. The last thirty plus years had been the most turbulent in England especially after Queen Elizabeth died in 1603 without an heir.

Known as the “Virgin Queen” she had ruled England with an iron fist for over forty-five years, and her subjects loved and respected her. Now the Parliamentarians were imposing their rule of law causing unrest throughout England.

The farmer continued in a subdued voice as though fearful of being overheard. “Washington is a Royalist you know, and makes no bones about it. He was told by Cromwell not to open the church doors on Christmas Day, but he defied him and opened them anyway. He was told not to ring the church bells that he had cast in Colchester in honor of the King, but he still does so several times a day. The man has no fear it seems, but there is much talk and many try to discredit him at every opportunity. I know his sons fear for their father’s future, but he himself seems undaunted. He was asked to sign the Solemn League and Covenant but he has refused. I have to say I admire the man. By the way, they have four children. John their first child, then Lawrence came soon after. The boys were followed by girls, Margaret and Martha.”

As if he suddenly was aware that perhaps he had said too much, the farmer changed the subject abruptly and said, “Sister, I did not ask and forgive me if I am prying, but what business takes you to Purleigh?”

Unlike the last time Catherine had been quizzed about her travel plans as she made her way to Hadleigh Castle with Farmer Atley, this time she was more accommodating. There was after all, nothing for her to hide, but she remembered the cautioning voice of Mother Superior, and so to a certain extent kept her own counsel. Without going into too much detail, she said she was making her way to Scotland regarding family matters.

“Oh really, what’s your family’s name?” inquired Cole. “Perhaps I know of them. I know many of the families in Essex.”

“My family’s name is MacDonald.”

Cole slapped his leg. “I do know the family.

Just about everyone knew old man MacDonald! I even remember when he arrived in the village. He was spouting off about the quality of wool from his sheep and boasting like you wouldn’t believe.”

Cole, realizing he had made a serious blunder continued, “Sorry Sister, my apologies, but your grandfather was very boastful, very full of himself and what he did. He bragged about the extraordinary quality of his wool and he was true to his word, I’ll say that for him…you never saw a whiter fleece in the whole of Essex. Not only was it pure white, it was as soft as silk; once it was spun and woven, it produced the finest cloth imaginable. In fact, one of his first customers was the Cistercian monks in Coggleshall. They heard about it and quickly became one of his most important patrons. They no longer had to import their cloth from Europe as they had done for years because now it was available from a local village. In fact, the wool soon became known as the Coggleshall Whites and was considered to be the best in the county.

Your grandfather was so successful, he could hardly keep up with demand, but he soon devised a plan. He arranged for women to have a looms in their own homes, so they could spin and weave late into the evening long after their regular chores were done. I tell you, to hear the sound of looms clacking away until the early hours of the morning was a delight for many people. The extra money meant more food on the table for most families in and around Hadleigh.

They passed a small pond. A Mallard duck with three hens swam close to the edge, sending little ripples in their wake. The hens busied themselves in the rear, ducking their heads in the water as they scooped up bugs. A rival duck appeared, and the Mallard swam back behind his little brood to protect them from the intruder. He shook his brilliant green head, flapped his wings and almost seemed to run on the water at his opponent. Catherine smiled at the scene.

“I will say that your grandfather was well liked and respected in the village, but after a couple of years in business, several of his sheep came down with an ailment

and they died. That seemed to take the fire out of his belly, so to speak, then he suffered the terrible loss of his son, and it wasn’t long before he died too.�

Catherine did not answer and focused on the trail ahead.

“Now I think of it…I remember the whole story. So you’re the little girl who used to skip by the side of your mother? I’m just a few years older than you, but I remember the story. What a terrible thing to happen to a family. I recall my parents and others tried to help out, but we were all struggling to make ends meet. Then we heard you and your mother went to the castle after the old man died…” he waited for her to respond. “I suppose it’s all water under the bridge now.”

Left alone with her thoughts, Catherine recalled going to her grandfather’s small cottage on Broad Street and vaguely remembered visiting him and attending his funeral, but there were so many memories flooding back now that she hardly knew which was real, and which was imagined.

Instead of answering, Catherine snuggled down in her blanket and pretended to doze while enjoying the warmth from the sun on her head. The gentle rocking of the cart as they made their way to Purleigh felt comforting, and allowed Catherine’s mind to drift back to the final moments at the priory. What would become of Sister Eliza without Catherine there to defend her? She was not as strong as Catherine emotionally and could not easily deflect the barbed comments from the likes of Sister Daphne. The thought made her shiver.

Catherine silently made a pledge that no matter what happened to her over the coming weeks and months, she would go back to the priory. But first she had to find out what had happened to her mother. Fifteen years! It seemed like a lifetime – it was a lifetime.

Chapter 20

Catherine had not realized she had been dozing until she awoke with a start. There, in the middle of the path was a man on a large brown horse. He wore a red spotted kerchief around the bottom part of his face, allowing only his eyes to be seen. Perched jauntily on the back of his head was a large three cornered black hat edged in silk; in his hands he held pistols that he waved in the air ominously.

“Stand and deliver, sir,” said the highwayman.

“Stand and deliver,” mocked Cole. “Stand and deliver what? We’ve nothing to give you. What do you want with us? I’m just escorting my passenger here to Purleigh. We have nothing of value unless you count a few hand woven bee hives – you’re wasting your time you devil!”

The highwayman coaxed his horse slowly forward and came alongside the farmer’s passenger. “Surely your pretty daughter here has something nice for me,” he said with a sly grin.

Now fully awake, Catherine lowered the blanket from her shoulders allowing her habit to be clearly seen.

“My God Sister, I’m sorry to inconvenience you on your journey. Please forgive me.” His attention then turned to the farmer. “What are you doing bringing a woman of the cloth into the countryside, and you unarmed at that?

Shame on you sir, the woods are full of rouges and ruffians, are you stark raving mad?”

“Rouges and ruffians like you I dare say,” responded Cole.

Nobody saw Toby crawling on his stomach approaching the highwayman from the rear until the last moment. He leapt on the horse’s back sinking his teeth deeply

into the poor creature’s hindquarters. Petrified, the horse reared up and bucked his rider, who landed several feet away on his side with a sickening thud. The horse galloped off in fright and Toby lost no time pouncing on his prey growling menacingly over the highwayman. Catherine and Farmer Cole leapt from the cart and ran to the injured man.

The man groaned loudly which caused an unearthly growl to erupt from Toby’s throat. “Stop that,” cried Catherine as she marched towards the fallen man and dog.

“Stop that Toby.”

Reprimanded, the dog backed away all the while growling deep in his throat, the hair in the middle of his back standing straight upright in a ridge. Catherine stroked the dog’s head in an effort to calm him, but his eyes never left the highwayman’s face.

The man groaned loudly again and gamely tried to stand but staggered backwards and fell backwards.

“Let’s be off!” cried Farmer Cole holding his whip aloft. “This is our chance to escape.”

“We can’t just leave him, he’s injured! His horse has bolted and he certainly can’t do us any harm in his present condition.”

“But Sister, he was about to rob us! This is our opportunity, we must leave,” hissed the farmer.

“But he didn’t rob us did he?” replied Catherine soberly. “Have a heart Farmer Cole. The man needs our help. Please!”

Catherine and Cole half dragged and half carried the man to a nearby tree and propped him against it.

He was still moaning as Catherine took his hand in hers and tapped it gently to rouse him. As she turned the hand over and looked at the palm, she was surprised to see he had been branded with the initial T. “What does this mean?” she asked Cole.

“It means he’s been convicted of stealing and branded with the letter T for thief. How he escaped the gallows I couldn’t tell you. Sometimes I’ve heard the judge shows leniency to an individual if he pleads Benefit of Clergy or Benefit of Education. Perhaps it’s so with this man here.”

He looked down disapprovingly.

Catherine remembered the stories from travelers about highwaymen. Many were displaced soldiers who, upon returning from the wars felt there was nothing left for them to do and no way to earn a living. For years the military had been their life, and once home, they found England a different place to the one they had left. Their

villages and families had changed, mothers and fathers had died, brothers and sisters married with families of their own.

Unable to assimilate into the new environment, these unfortunate men sometimes resorted to the life of crime. After all, they were familiar with a pistol, could handle a horse, and besides the life promised to be exciting. They rarely hurt a traveler and stole only from the rich, never from the poor.

They were polite and daring, relying on the power of surprise and their threatening behavior to gain the upper hand. Ladies who swooned in their presence were treated gently and often excited the flirtatious nature of many a highwayman.

Suspecting they may be robbed, some women played tricks.

They would have two purses, one holding the more valuable items hidden beneath their under clothing, while the other rested conveniently in the lady’s lap. No doubt most highwaymen guessed they were being deceived, but none would even consider searching a finely dressed lady.

As she looked down at the man propped against the tree, he stirred, winced and brought one arm up to brace the other; Catherine wondered what had brought him to this point. He still wore the red spotted kerchief around his face and she gently pulled it down to his neck.

“What are you doing sister? Watch out? He’s capable of anything,” said Cole as he snatched for the highwayman’s pistols and stuffed them in the waistband of his trousers.

She was surprised to see he was quite young – only 19 or 20 years old at the most. His eyes fluttered open and she saw they were the deepest blue she had ever seen. His hat had fallen off during the scuffle, and his flaxen, curly hair was plastered to his head with sweat. His ruddy coloring gave evidence he spent a great deal of his time in the open air.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

The man blinked several times and looked Catherine up and down and with a roguish grin answered, “Tom Black, at your service. Gentleman of the Road, I’m pleased to make your acquaintance Sister.”

“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance indeed,” scoffed Cole and turned away in disgust.

Catherine ignored the farmer. “We’ll not leave you here like this,” she said. “I believe your arm could be broken. You need help.”

“Where’s my horse? He’s worth a small fortune. I need to get him back,” mumbled Black.

“If he was your horse to begin with,” responded Cole under his breath.

The two men locked eyes but it was Black who turned away first and did not challenge the accusation.

“I thought as much,” spat Cole. “I wouldn’t mind betting he stole the horse. That’s a hanging offence if ever I heard one. Stand back I say Sister, he’s a dangerous man.”

But Catherine would not listen. “We caused him to fall from his horse and we should offer to help.”

“He only fell off his horse because he was about to rob us,” argued Cole. “This is ridiculous!”

Still, Catherine would not back down. “We’re going to Purleigh. We should be there by noon. Would you like to come with us? You can rest in the bed of the cart can’t he Farmer Cole?”

Cole was so furious, he could barely be civil.

“I’ll do whatever you want Sister,” he growled.

Toby hunched his shoulders and paced up and down all the while snarling and baring his teeth.

Together they helped the highwayman into the cart. He settled back with a broad grin much to the annoyance of Cole. “You can take that smirk off your face or I’ll knock it off.”

“I’m just smiling because if anyone had told me I’d have a well meaning farmer, and a beautiful woman’s help this day, I’d have said they were stark, staring mad.”

Farmer Cole shook his head and Catherine blushed and suppressed a smile.

The last few miles to Purleigh were quiet as everybody attended to their own thoughts. They approached the village of Purleigh from the south, climbing steadily on Badger’s Hill for almost half an hour. They passed several thatched cottages dotted here and there along the road. Some had lines of washing fluttering in the back gardens, a prop

holding the washing line high in the center. Dogs ran back and forth barking at the cart as it rumbled past. Some home owners seemed to recognize Farmer Cole because they called out to him. Others just touched their hats and continued with their work.

The village was located between the rivers Crouch and Blackwater. The fertile fields produced enough corn and barley for the farmers to support their family and the rivers that fed from the North Sea provided fresh fish year round. It was a pleasant area nestled deeply in the Essex countryside.

As they approached All Saints Church the bells were ringing loudly. Farmer Cole stopped his cart in front of the church and he and Catherine climbed down and walked to the rear to help their passenger. Together they helped him walk up the cinder path towards the church door.

Catherine looked up at the church. It was absolutely breathtaking with its knapped flint stone exterior and beautiful stained glass windows that caught the midday sun. She could see the top of the church with its castellation and the gargoyles on each corner. On the south corner was a sea serpent and another held the image of a grotesque man’s face.

Water dripped from his mouth and she saw where it had pooled on the ground. Atop the church sat a handsome weather vane in the shape of a fish, an early symbol of Christianity. It spun gently in the spring breeze.

Chapter 21

They entered the tiny church and stood for a moment allowing their eyes to grow accustomed to the darkness. There were six elegantly carved pews on each side of the red and black tiled aisle. Catherine noticed the hexagonal wooden pulpit which had been carved with an exquisite design of fruit and foliage. She could imagine the Reverend Washington standing there addressing his parishioners. As they walked farther into the church, the bells stopped pealing and a loud and anxious voice called. “Who’s there? Who’s in my church?”

Farmer Cole called out in response, “Hello there Reverend Washington. It’s Farmer Cole, Sister Catherine and Tom Black.”

“Oh, right you are. Just give me a moment,” called Washington.

In the next instant, Washington almost fell through the bell tower door and stood before them brushing his hands on his robe. “Welcome to All Saints’ Church. What brings you here?” he puffed.

Farmer Cole quickly explained how they had come across Black in the woods. He had taken a spill from his horse and was injured, and they had stopped to help him.

Technically, it was the truth, but Catherine averted her eyes from the Reverend and he did not notice her uneasiness.

“Black, Black” the minister said thoughtfully.

“Don’t I know your father? Isn’t he a butcher in Maldon?

Good law abiding family as I recall – his three boys were all sent off to school. Which one are you then?”

“I’m the youngest. Yes, yes we were, but things didn’t turn out quite the way my father hoped. He passed away some years ago, the business failed and I’m

afraid…” Black’s voice trailed off without finishing.

“Well, first things first, you are favoring your arm sir if I’m not mistaken.” Farmer Cole and Catherine looked at each other but said nothing.

“Let’s get that arm looked at – it may be broken. I’ll get my wife to take a look. Please, follow me next door. She will help you young man and give you all some refreshments.”

They followed Washington through his church to his modest little rectory in the rear. It was a small home, clean, comfortable and filled with practical and useful furniture. Newly dried rushes were laid on the floor and bunch of dried herbs hung from oak beams together with half a leg of smoked ham. A rickety, spiral staircase stood in the corner which Catherine assumed led to bedrooms above. Reverend Washington’s wife, Amphyllis, looked up from her cooking as they entered the cottage.

Amphyllis had a strong face. She was not a beauty by any means, but there was something about her manner that was very pleasing. A confidence perhaps that showed she was capable of doing anything she put her mind to. She had striking green eyes and long fair hair that she wore braided and wrapped at the back of her head.

“Lawrence, I didn’t know we were expecting guests.”

“Nor did I Amphyllis, but here they are nonetheless. One is in dire need of your help. By the way, this is Sister Catherine, Tom Black from Malden, you remember the family? And of course you know Farmer Cole.”

Washington introduced his wife and sons, John and Lawrence. Both men sat at the kitchen table, wooden spoons at the ready eagerly for their lunch. They waited patiently as their mother tended to the stranger.

“I don’t think it’s broken,” said Amphyllis smiling turning Black’s arm this way and that. He winced once or twice as she did so. “I’ll bind it to your shoulder, but you must rest it so it heals properly.”

Just at the moment, Reverend Washington’s two daughters bustled through the cottage door giggling and pushing each other playfully. One held a pail of fresh milk, the other a basket of newly-laid eggs. They stopped in

surprise when they saw their visitors.

“These are my daughters Martha and Margaret,” said Washington proudly.

The girls stood awkwardly looking at their guests. Both blushed from their necks to their foreheads.

“Come now girls – don’t be shy,” coaxed Amphyllis “Welcome our guests nicely.”

The girls curtsied and both looked at Tom who smiled mischievously in return.

“There,” said Amphyllis, “you are finished Mr. Black. Soon you’ll be as right as rain, but be sure to rest that arm. Now, let us eat.”

As they sat and enjoyed the hospitality of Reverend Washington, he spoke of his difficulties trying to keep control of his church and congregation.

“I fear it will not be long before they try to force me out,” said Washington. “I’m a thorn in the Parliamentarians’ side because of my support for the king.

They constantly accuse me of doing things they say are in conflict with my position in the church. Of course, they are all lies! They say I go to The Bell Inn every day, that I sup there and even encourage others to do the same.”

Both sons began to laugh, “But you do father.”

“Well I know I do, but that’s none of their business. What harm is there taking a little ale. Besides, I get the opportunity to talk to my people. They tell me things inside the inn they would never tell me in church, but I suspect one of them has told the authorities beastly lies about me.”

“If they follow through with their threats,” said John angrily, “I will leave England forever. I swear I will father. I hear there are good opportunities to be had in the New World. Three members of the Sherman family from Dedham have already left for America, and three more are planning to do so. Edmund Sherman told me last week that the Roundheads have desecrated the family church. They’ve used their cannons to blow out those magnificent stained glass windows the family commissioned years ago. All that’s left is one tiny piece in the uppermost window. They’ve destroyed everything of beauty! Why do they have to do it father? What possesses them to cause such mayhem? I vow, if they come to

Purleigh, I’ll fight them with my bare hands.�

Washington put his fork down and looked at Catherine. “Please forgive my hot headed son. I have no doubt he will leave for the New World if things go badly for us and I wouldn’t blame him. To be persecuted for one’s beliefs is simply not right. Now, let’s change the subject. How is Mother Superior? How is she coping with the changes that are being forced on us?”

“We live a quiet life and don’t attract attention. We grow most of our own food, have a few chickens and goats, and of course we have our bees. We produce some of the best honey in the area, thanks to Mr. Cole’s wife,” Catherine offered with pride.

“Likewise,” said Washington. “Now forgive me, we are not being good hosts, let us pray and eat.”

“But father,” responded John, “I understand we must turn the other cheek, but I fear these brutes will take everything you’ve worked so hard for all your life, and you’ll end up with nothing!”

Lawrence Washington sighed loudly and looked hard at his son raising his eyebrows.

“Sorry father,” said John and concentrated on his plate of food.

After they had finished their brief meal Farmer Cole stood and said, “I shall need to go soon Sister.

May I leave you in the reverend’s good hands?”

“Of course,” replied Catherine. “I know you want to get back to your wife as quickly possible. Please, don’t delay here on my behalf.”

“I wish you well Sister with your mission,” responded Cole as he rose from the bench. “Would you accompany me outside for a moment?”

When they were alone the farmer spoke up.

“It’s just a suggestion, but…well; perhaps I was a bit too hasty judging Mr. Black. He doesn’t seem as bad as I first thought and well, he might be useful to you on your journey.

Maybe he could escort you part way? Sometimes, it’s better the devil you know, if you get my drift. It might be something you could discuss with the Reverend Washington. Surely it would be better to have Black by your side to protect you…and he certainly has the credentials,” he added

sarcastically.

Chapter 22

Catherine stood at the door of the rectory waving farewell to Cole and caught sight of Toby who had been fast asleep under a bush. He lifted his sleepy head and opened his mouth wide with a yawn, showing his long yellow fangs. The dog had run silently by the side of the cart for more than four hours, and Catherine smiled as she thought how protective he had become of her.

She considered Farmer Cole’s last words and wondered if she should approach Mr. Black with the idea, but was it prudent to ask him? She decided to wait and see how badly he was injured and in the meantime, to ask Reverend Washington for his guidance and advice.

Back inside the rectory, Catherine could see some of the shyness had lifted from the girls as they questioned Mr. Black about his past life in the military. They were still coy and bashful but intrigued by their handsome guest who it seemed was thoroughly enjoying the attention.

“Girls, please let the man rest. Put the dishes away, and we can talk later. We should let our guests relax for a while,” chided the Reverend.

“Could you spare me a few moments of your time?” Catherine asked Washington.

“Yes of course, let’s go outside and enjoy the afternoon and you can tell me what you’re doing in Purleigh.

I’m anxious to hear the details.”

They sat on a wooden bench at the back of the rectory overlooking the Blackwater River. Catherine could see fishermen going about their business trying to keep their families fed. The sun was dipping ever so slightly, and it gave a warm glow to the horizon.

“I don’t know where to begin,” she said.

Washington smiled, “Why not start at the beginning Catherine.”

Taking a deep breath, Catherine told her story quickly and succinctly.

“So,” said Washington, “you intend traveling all the way to Scotland in search of your mother and your family?”

“Yes, surely you can understand?” Catherine said quickly. “I’ll never be content until I find out what happened to her and why she didn’t return. What’s the link between Alice and my mother – if indeed there is a link? I sensed when I spoke to the Earl, that he had not been completely honest about his relationship with my mother. Oh Reverend Washington, there are so many questions I need answered. To be honest, I don’t know what I will do if I can’t find the truth.”

“Have you considered that you may not like what you find? You could be terribly disappointed?

Sometimes, it’s better to leave well enough alone.”

Catherine stood abruptly. “Nonsense,” she said a little too quickly and then softened her voice and sat back down.

“Well, since I cannot dissuade you from making this perilous journey, what can I do to help? We can begin by offering you a place for the night.”

“I do have a question for you reverend, and I would appreciate an honest, candid answer. Farmer Cole suggested I ask Mr. Black to accompany me on at least part of my journey. He could protect me I know, but I’m concerned about the propriety of such a thing. What do you think?”

Reverend Washington ran a finger over his lips; he seemed to be considering his response carefully.

“Well, I understand you felt the need to help the man after his accident, but Catherine, I saw his hand! Helping him while you were in the company of a reputable farmer is one thing, having him accompany you alone is something quite different.

Although I agree with Cole, the man is certainly qualified to escort and protect you but do you really want to travel in the company of a thief? We are judged by the company we keep,

you know, and you’ve only just met the man. This is something you should consider carefully, but let me ask you a question: Obviously I’ve noticed you’ve removed your wimple and, as I’ve listened to your story you seem unsure – and may I say unhappy. Are you having second thoughts about your calling?”

“I, I, didn’t mean to give you that impression.”

Catherine struggled with her answer saying, “I am so grateful that Mother Superior took me in. It was only natural I should become a nun. But I must admit I do have reservations about my vocation, especially with everything that’s happened over the last few weeks.”

“Please, do not worry yourself Sister.

Sometimes we make the wrong decisions and sometimes…people make them for us. Do not chastise yourself for the decisions you’ve made in the past, but look to the future; we can certainly do something about that. Your mother has come into your life again, and I can see from your face and hear from your voice that you will not stop until you find her. This is something you have to do – and so you must!

I will pray for you.”

“Thank you for your kind words, and if I may impose on you for a few days I would greatly appreciate your hospitality.”

“Of course, our house is your house for as long as you want to stay. But tell me, where will you next stop?”

“I need to check the map Mother Superior gave me, but I believe my next stop is Saffron Walden.

A worried look flooded over the reverend’s face.

“What’s the matter Reverend, you look quite concerned?”

“The last I heard was that Cromwell and his lieutenants were using Saffron Walden as their headquarters.

I’m told they use the Sun Inn on the High Street for their base, so be watchful because his spies are everywhere. They listen to gossip in the inns and livery stables and report back to Cromwell of any perceived Royalist or Royalist sympathizer.

You’d be wise to avoid the town if possible, especially since you’ve been here under my roof. God only knows what Cromwell’s army will do next – but they are systematically moving from town to town ferreting out supporters of the King? I fear none of us are safe.”

The realization was a sobering one. Not only did she have to fear ruffians and highwaymen, now she had to consider Oliver Cromwell’s soldiers too. Immediately, she made her decision.

She thanked the Reverend for his kindness and hospitality and went to find Tom Black. He was talking and smiling in an animated fashion talking to Washington’s daughters when Catherine entered the room. The sight annoyed her.

“How are you feeling Mr. Black? Is your arm a little less sore now?”

“Yes, in fact it is Sister. Thank you for bringing me here and thank you ladies for attending to me. I couldn’t have asked for better help,” he said loudly beaming at the girls who blushed again and looked down at their hands.

“Would you mind taking a walk with me, Mr. Black?”

“Of course, Sister,” Black hoisted himself out the chair, turned towards the ladies and touched his hand to his head in a gentlemanly way. The girls covered their mouths and giggled as he walked with Catherine to the door.

“What can I do for you?”

“Let’s go outside for a few minutes,” said Catherine and she led Black to the same wooden bench she had shared with the Reverend. Away from the young girls, Black took on a somber tone and turned his face towards Catherine.

“You were very kind to me today. You didn’t need to be – thank you!”

Catherine blushed. “We caused you to fall from your horse – we were partly to blame. But enough of that, I have something to ask you. You don’t have to answer immediately, but please listen to what I have to say and think about it carefully. “When you are able to travel, would you consider escorting me on part of my journey? I can’t pay you much, but I have a little money. Also, wherever we stay, they will offer you food and board as a courtesy to me. That’s all I can offer, I’m afraid.”

Catherine was aware she was holding her breath as she watched Black gaze out over the river, deep in

thought. His brow furrowed and his eyes squinted as he considered the proposal. She was suddenly scared. What if he said “no” – what would she do then? She had been very afraid in Hockley Woods when the two men appeared out of nowhere. What would have happened if she had been on her own? She shuddered with the thought. Then, on this very morning, Tom Black had tried to rob them, even with Mr. Cole at her side. The thought terrified her more than she cared to admit. Reverend Washington was correct, she hardly knew the man, but felt there was goodness in him – she could feel it! She watched his face as he turned towards her, a large grin from ear to ear.

He leaned towards her. “There’ve been few people in my life who have helped me Sister and I’m grateful.

Consider it done! Where are we going, and when do we leave?”

“I’m so relieved to hear your response. I’m going to Scotland to find my mother,” replied Catherine.

“Scotland is it? I’ve never been to Scotland in my whole life. I would be delighted to accompany you Sister – and the whole way if you’ll have me. It’ll give me a chance to repay you for your kindness. When do we leave?”

Catherine sighed loudly, “We’ll leave when you’re good and ready. The Reverend said we could stay with them for as long as we wish, but I don’t want to overstay our welcome.”

Black sighed. “Washington’s youngest daughter, Martha, is quite charming don’t you think Catherine? She’s such a happy young woman. I wouldn’t mind spending a couple of weeks here to get to know her better.” He stood and walked back into the rectory.

The comment irritated Catherine. She sat for a few moments. What did it matter to her that Black wanted to be in the company of the attractive young woman? That he found her “charming” and such good company. She could not explain this new feeling that flooded over her, and it both troubled and annoyed her intensely.

Chapter 23

A week later it was the end of March and the weather had steadily improved, promising better weather ahead. The time had come for Catherine and Black to leave Reverend Washington and the little village of Purleigh.

Catherine and Black were busy making their plans to leave. “Is this mutt coming with us?” questioned Black. “Wherever I turn, he’s there watching me. He’s just another mouth to feed, as far as I’m concerned. It’ll be difficult enough to feed ourselves, let alone a dog! I’ll give him his due, he’s a fine fellow as Wolfhounds go, stronger than most it seems,” Black absentmindedly rubbed his injured arm. “He seems dedicated to you.”

Catherine smiled to herself, “You need not concern yourself with feeding the dog. In fact, he will probably feed us! He brought many a rabbit to the priory door supplying us with meat for weeks. I don’t think you should concern yourself.”

Toby seemed to understand they were talking about him and he hung his head and looked up at them.

“Well, we got off to a bad start didn’t we boy?

Perhaps in time Toby and I can be friends.” He scowled down at the dog.

Amphyllis walked towards them. She had wrapped some bread, cheese and dried apples in a square cloth, and tied the ends together securing the little bundle.

“There, that should help you for part of your way my dears. I only wish we could spare you a horse and cart, but we have only one and must keep it for own needs. I know Lawrence has told you to avoid Saffron Walden. Just north of there in Hadstock there is a monastery that takes in lepers. I’m told Cromwell’s men won’t pass within a mile of the place, so you

may want to stay overnight there. There is a slight risk of course, but you would surely avoid Cromwell’s men. If they find out you’ve been associating with us, you’ll likely become a target. Take my word for it, go to the monastery and speak to Father Abbott, mention our name and he will take good care of you.”

“Thank you for your care and hospitality, you have been most kind and considerate,” said Catherine.

When they were out of earshot Black grumbled. “Go visit a leper colony? Are you mad Sister? I’d rather face the whole of Cromwell’s army than go to that monastery. Don’t you understand what happens to those people? They lose their fingers, toes and much, much more.”

“I don’t believe we have a lot of choice in the matter. I have to travel north and I know I will have a safe haven at Hadstock. Accompany me or not, it doesn’t matter to me in the least.” Catherine had clearly challenged Black’s manhood, and he indignantly rose to the bait.

“All right then, I’ll still come with you but I must say…I come under duress and I don’t believe it’s the right course for us to take.”

They met the Washington family in the kitchen and said their farewells. Gratefully taking the bundle of food, Black slid it over a stick and hoisted on his shoulder.

Turning towards the family, they waved until they were out of sight with Toby running before them.

It was early morning, and the air felt brisk with a sharp northerly wind. Catherine felt a little apprehensive about the journey. She realized now how much she had been protected over the years. She had been safe and secure all her life, and she knew this was about to change.

Travelers had talked of the terrible atrocities that were part of the Civil War; Englishmen against Englishmen. The people had rebelled primarily because of the exorbitant taxes raised to fight fruitless wars.

The time had been ripe for change and Cromwell had grasped it with both hands. But was it necessary to destroy all that was beautiful in the churches?

Mother Superior had told her she thought it quite clever the way Cromwell contrasted himself with the King by wearing dark somber clothes. The King’s clothes were flamboyant, bright in color and made from exquisite materials such as velvet and silk. It was no wonder the commoners rebelled against such displays of obvious splendor especially when their King appeared to care so little for them and showed a complete disregard for their needs. Catherine feared for her

country and the path it was taking – what would become of them all? She sighed aloud causing Black to turn his head and look at her.

“Sister, that was a loud sigh, do you regret leaving Reverend Washington so soon? Should we have stayed a little longer? You’ve told me very little about your final destination and the reason for your journey. Would you care to share more with me?”

Catherine avoided answering and instead pulled the map from her satchel and studied it.

“We’ll have plenty of time to discuss that as we make our way north,” she said pleasantly and offered no more. “We still have a long way to go.”

“Since we are journeying together, will you please address me by my Christian name?”

Catherine smiled, “As you wish...Tom,” It was late afternoon as they were approached Little Dunmow, a town very familiar to Tom. He said, “We can stay the night with my cousin if you don’t object, and then be on our way first thing in the morning.”

Catherine pulled the map out again. “There’s no priory nearby where we can take shelter. Do you think your cousin will mind? Does he have a family?” she added quickly.

“Yes, in fact he and his wife were lucky enough to get the flitch of bacon last year – they’ve been living off it all winter. I expect we will see some of it on the table tonight,” he said with a chuckle.

“I don’t understand what you mean. Why did they get a flitch of bacon? Was it a prize?”

Tom chuckled and began his story with a flourish. “Back in the old days when Ralph Baynard was Lord of Little Dunmow, his wife noted excessive bickering and fighting among married couples in their village, and she came up with a simple plan. The plan was this: If a couple could swear, by kneeling in front of the congregation they had not quarreled or spoken ill of each other or wished they were unmarried for one year and one day, they may receive the flitch, but first they had to recite an ancient rhyme. They had to swear to these things under oath in front of the whole village folk who would happily contest their claim. If nobody stepped forward – then the bacon was theirs. My cousin and his wife won the prize last year and were paraded around the

village in a chair all afternoon. Then they had to share some of their good fortune with the villagers. It was a grand afternoon, I can tell you.�

I’ve never heard of that tradition. What a clever and ingenious woman she must have been to devise such a plan. You say it happens every year?”

“Yes it does. But here we are Sister. This is my cousin’s home.”

Chapter 24

Wearily they knocked on the door and were greeted by a toothless old woman. She stared at Tom and then looked at Catherine. “Well, what do we have here – visitors no less.” She turned towards the rear of the cottage and shouted. “Amos, you’ve got to come and see this.”

Amos and his wife Betsy met Tom and his companion at the door and ushered them inside. “What a wonderful surprise?” Betsy looked Catherine up and down.

“What brings you here, Sister?” She led them to a table and quickly took her apron and wiped the table clean. “Please sit and tell us what brings you to Little Baddow?”

Catherine looked into Betsy’s kind blue eyes.

Her hair was partly gray and she had a ready smile. Betsy held Catherine’s gaze waiting, but it was Tom who spoke first.

“We’re on our way to Scotland. Can you believe that? The Sister here is looking for her family who live up there and I’ve offered to help.”

Amos and Betsy exchanged curious looks, but nothing was said. Betsy immediately got up to help her mother ladle soup into wooden bowls; she placed them on the table in front of Catherine and Tom and they tucked in heartily.

“What a surprise – ham and pea soup!” said Tom as he looked up at Catherine. A little glint appeared in his eyes. Catherine could not help a little smile. They had shared their first joke together, and it felt good.

More soup was added to their bowls together with a large plate of crusty bread.

Betsy spoke again. “We don’t have that much room, as you can see, but it would please us greatly if you would take our bed for the night.”

“I couldn’t possibly do that,” responded Catherine. “It wouldn’t be fair.”

“It wouldn’t be fair if you didn’t Sister.

You’re our guest, and you’ll be treated as such.”

“You are very kind, thank you.”Catherine was secretly grateful for the offer and looked forward to spending a night in a warm and comfortable bed. She and Tom had walked all day and she was more than ready to retire for the night. She stood up and glanced over to the family sitting by the fire. “Well, I think I’m ready for a good night’s sleep.”

“Don’t worry about your dog, we’ll take care of him,” called Amos. “Have a good night’s sleep, Sister.”

Catherine climbed the rickety little spiral staircase in the corner of the room and looked down at the family below. Betsy, Amos, Tom and the old woman were huddled together talking quietly and drinking ale around the fire. It warmed her heart to see them, and she wondered what it would be like to belong to a family, to have unconditional love. Pushing the thought from her head, she continued climbing the stairs. She was far too tired to let it keep her awake this night. She snuggled down on the goose feathered pillow, and was soon sound asleep.

They were awake at the crack of dawn and ready to get going. Betsy had fed Toby the night before but she fed him again. He was clearly happy running around, his long tail swooshing back and forth, excited by the action in the home.

Catherine took Betsy’s hands in her own.

“You’ve been very kind, thank you so much.”

“Think nothing of it Sister and by the way, here is some food for your journey.”

It was mid afternoon when Catherine looked down and saw the mile marker. “One mile to Saffron Walden…this is where we need to head west to Hadstock.”

She expected Tom to become argumentative. But instead, he merely nodded and turned with her as Toby ran ahead happily, his ears flapping and his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.

The path narrowed as they entered the wood.

It was obvious by the width of the path that only foot traffic

had passed this way. It was not long before the dense foliage almost cut the sun out completely. The sound of a bell caused them both to stop in their tracks. “Do you know what that is?� hissed Tom looking around nervously.

“Yes, yes I do,” Catherine said. “Have no fear Tom, it means they’ve seen us and are careful to keep their distance.”

A muffled voice called out from behind a tree, “Who goes there?”

“It’s Sister Catherine from Hedingham Priory and this is Tom Black, my escort. We were told to ask for Father Abbott – can you help us?”

“I can indeed Sister. Follow the path you are on until you come to a fork. Take the left path and that will lead you directly to the monastery. God be with you.”

“And with you,” Catherine responded.

They heard a rustling of bushes and the man was gone. They continued on the path for a few minutes and turned left at the fork. Just a few hundred yards ahead in a clearing stood a modest building surrounded by several small huts and a barn. The whole area was surrounded by a high hedge of hawthorn bushes, their prickly thorns providing a formidable wall that would stop any livestock from escaping.

It was a dismal scene. Every building needed to be repaired.

The thatched roofs had been patched so many times; they looked bowed in the center and unable to carry much weight.

There were holes in several of the buildings where the wattle and daub had crumbled from the walls. Someone had placed large sections of paling s against the holes, presumably to keep animals on the outside. And I thought our priory was poor, Catherine thought. A pair of doves fluttered overhead, and landed on the main building.

Catherine called out as they approached and were welcomed by a small, wiry man dressed in a black Benedictine habit. His face was clean shaven; his head partly shaved in the traditional manner denoting he held clerical status, and around his neck hung a heavy cross. Instead of a fine leather belt around his waist, his habit was tied with string that had been braided to form a belt; the ends of the braid had been knotted and they swung back and forth as he walked towards them. The cowl around his neck was stained and grubby and he welcomed them through black, broken teeth. He looked terribly emaciated.

“Good grief! Travelers! We haven’t had visitors for years. What brings you here? Dear me, here I am asking questions. How rude. Please come inside and take the weight off your feet.”

“While we still have them that is,” whispered Tom mockingly.

Catherine turned towards him and gritted her teeth. “Will you please be quiet? Would it hurt you to be kind to this man?”

“I’ll try Sister,” said Black “I truly will. After all, I’m here to do your bidding, but I can’t promise anything.”

Catherine scowled back at him. “Well, you were polite...and dare I say it, gushed with admiration for the young maidens at the Washington home. Perhaps you can muster some of that kindness now?”

“I had no idea it bothered you so much Sister.”

“It doesn’t bother me; I’m merely stating that when you feel like it, you can be a very kind and generous man. And please take that smile off your face.”

Black bowed low smiling even broader, “After you Sister Catherine.”

Chapter 25

Father Abbott’s warm and jolly countenance brought a smile to Catherine’s lips. She wondered how anyone could live and care for the poor wretches who probably watched from the forest. How did he do it? She turned towards Tom hoping his mood had improved. It had not. She was disappointed to see the sour look on his face, but she ignored him as she followed Father Abbott into the main building.

“Please, please, come inside and warm yourself,” said the Father beckoning with a wave of his arm.

“I don’t have much to offer you in the way of food, but you can share what we have. The Lord says that nothing is so small it cannot be shared. I’m assuming you will also need a bed for the night?” He pulled a three legged stool next to a rickety table, and gestured for Catherine and Tom to join him.

Catherine stepped forward without hesitation but Tom stood by the door as if he might bolt at a moment’s notice.

Father Abbott was amused. “Do not fear those who cannot help themselves my son. I have lived among them for many years, and see… I am free from the terrible disease,” he held his hands up. “These people suffer so badly you should pity them, not fear them. Come…sit down my friend, do not be afraid.”

“Honestly Father, I’d rather be safe than sorry.

I once saw a woman lying just outside Hockley Woods. I could barely determine it was a human being let alone if it was a man or a woman. Why do you do it Father? I mean, why do you subject yourself to this misery?”

“Do you mean, why do I care for these poor, miserable souls? If I did not, then who would care for them?

Now Sister, tell me what brings you here? How may I help

you?”

Tom continued to stand like a sentry close to the door.

“Oh for goodness sake, come and sit down, you are making me nervous!” snapped Catherine. Tom grudgingly made his way to the table.

Catherine introduced herself and told her story, but without detail or elaboration. Abandoned as a child of five years, she had waited fifteen years for her mother to return but had now taken a leave of absence from the priory to find her mother. It was a plausible story, one that could not be easily challenged and left few questions unanswered. It surprised her how quickly and easily she told the story.

All the while, Father Abbott had been busy stirring something in a large black cauldron over an open fire.

He took a wooden ladle off a hook hanging over the fireplace and poured a generous amount into a bowl. He handed it to Tom who took it greedily.

The Abbott continued. “Your must have seen out dovecote when you came in. We’ve been lucky enough to have a good supply of doves all year. They’ve kept us in food I’m glad to say – they’ve kept us alive. So, you were saying, you met on your journey...” he did not finish the sentence allowing Catherine to fill in the details.

“We met through a mutual friend on the road to Purleigh, and once he heard my story, he kindly offered to escort me to Scotland,” she said looking over to Tom with a smile.

“That’s very admirable of you to help our Sister. Courtesy and kindness can go a long way in this world.

There’ll be a place in heaven for you no doubt. Now, please sit.”

No more questions were asked and, after their meal, Father Abbott led Catherine to one of the huts for the night. It was surprisingly clean inside with fresh rushes on the floor and a mattress filled with hay lay on the little cot that stood in the corner. Two blankets sat neatly folded at the end of the cot and exhausted, Catherine fell asleep immediately, and awoke before light.

Rubbing her eyes, she made her way to the door and stepped outside. She was not surprised to see Toby

lying there beside the door, he sleepily opened one eye. “I knew you’d be here,” said Catherine aloud, and bent down to scratch behind his ears. His hind leg began to shake involuntarily which made Catherine smile. “You are a funny dog!”

A movement by the barn door caught her attention. A man, dressed in rags, holding a pail of what Catherine assumed was milk was closing the door. He saw her and stopped immediately. “Please, do not come any closer.

It’s very early Sister; I didn’t expect to see anyone.”

“And I didn’t mean to stop you from your chores.”

“Breakfast will be ready soon. It’s not much, but there’s fresh milk.” He held the pail out in front. “I believe we have some bread left too. It should keep you going until your next stop. By the way, I fed your dog.”

Catherine noticed the man’s manner of speech but did not inquire further. He was obviously an educated man and she felt he must have been embarrassed that she saw him under such circumstances. She knew leprosy had no class barriers, and everyone from kings to commoners could become infected.

“You are most generous. Thank you!” She bent down to stroke Toby and when she looked up again, the man was gone.

Back inside the hut she sat quietly saying her devotions and waited until she saw the morning sun peek over the trees. She thought she heard someone moving around the grounds and stepped out into the clearing.

“Good morning Sister Catherine,” said Father Abbott brightly. “Is it not a beautiful day?” Catherine did not know what to say. She had thought her life in the priory was hard and often challenging, but, as she had walked about this little settlement hidden in the woods, she saw that it was poor beyond belief. It could hardly be called a monastery. There was no chapel to speak of and the few buildings were no more than shacks. Every building needed work but who could do it.

Where would the money come from? As of yet, she had only seen one other man besides Father Abbott but still he appeared optimistic and even happy.

Catherine could not control her feelings.

“How do you manage?”

“Manage! Manage – what a strange thing for you in particular to ask. Look at these people whose lives are in tatters. Do you hear them complain? No, they do not, and

neither will I. But what about you Catherine, I suspect you have not been totally honest with me. I saw Tom’s hand.� He nodded accusingly.

Catherine felt a rush of blood to her cheeks.

“Do not be embarrassed Sister. I am sure you have your reasons for not telling me the whole truth. I understand the need to protect the ones you love.”

“I beg your pardon Father, but you have completely misunderstood the situation. Mr. Black is merely escorting me to Scotland. Please do not assume anything different.”

“I will say nothing further on the subject then Sister. But, I have something for you that may help with your journey, please come with me to the barn.”

Catherine was still flushed and angry by the conversation as she followed Father Abbott towards the barn.

He flung the door open and pointed in the semi darkness. “See here, a small cart for you and over there is Jessie, an old mule I’ve had her for years. It’s not much to offer, but it may help you and shorten your journey somewhat.”

She clasped Father Abbott’s hands in her own and kissed them. “Oh Father, you are so kind! Thank you, thank you – but what of you, can you not make good use of them here?”

“I’m afraid my time here and that of my small group is quickly coming to an end. There are only three men and one woman left at present, and I fear they will not last much longer. I have doubts that even I will last another winter. Please, take the cart and mule; put them to good use and think of us fondly.”

Catherine walked out the barn as tears stung her eyes. Just then, Tom walked out one of the huts and blinked as his eyes adjusted to the morning light. Rubbing them, and he absentmindedly smoothed his hair down, he saw her smiling with a strange look on her face. “What! What are you smiling at?”

“You’ll never guess what we have,” she said still smiling.

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense. Do we have something special for breakfast, some bacon or eggs or at least something other than yesterday’s bread?

“It’s better than breakfast.”

“Nothing could be better than food.”

“Father Abbott is giving us a small cart and a mule. Can you believe that?”

“I still want some breakfast,” grumbled Tom. “I don’t believe your impudence. You’re an ungrateful and selfish man and you deserve nothing!” spat Catherine and stomped off in the opposite direction.

Tom ran after her. He gently touched her on the shoulder and she spun around angrily to face him. She looked into his clear blue eyes as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. It was thoughtless, I apologize.”

Catherine followed Tom into the monastery, but her knees were shaking. She watched him stride forward, confident and in full control. She decided she did not like confrontations in any way shape or form, but what else had happened? She had to admit, she liked his touch. His hand, when he placed it on her shoulder, was warm and firm. It was a nice feeling. She shook her head as if trying to dispel her thoughts. What’s wrong with you? She thought.

Breakfast consisted of a glass of milk and a chunk of yesterday’s bread, but it still tasted delicious to Catherine. Tom made a special effort, and was very appreciative to their host. Catherine smiled at him, and Tom grinned back. They were eager to get going and by the time they finished, the cart and mule had miraculously appeared close to the front door.

Father Abbott walked his guests outside and placing the bundle of food in the cart. The mule seemed impatient to get going, her ears upright and pointed, and she swished her tail in an effort to rid herself of the flies that appeared with the spring.

“Thank you for visiting me and giving me the news of Reverend Washington,” said Father Abbott. “I fear for his safety and that of his family. If you should find yourself back in Purleigh in the not so distant future, will you please tell him I am well and continuing God’s work here in the woods?”

“I will indeed,” responded Catherine as Tom

helped her into the cart. Together they sat as Tom took up the reins and Father Abbott handed Tom a pair of badly worn leather gloves. “Take these; they’ll protect your hands against the chafing.”

Tom made eye contact with Father Abbott and both exchanged a tight smile. Nodding to the monk, he pulled on the gloves. “You are a kind man sir – thank you. Tom clicked his tongue and gave Jessie a little switch, and they set off with Toby leading the way.

“I wonder if I’ll ever see Father Abbott again?” murmured Catherine.

“I never plan on returning,” mumbled Tom. “Thank you again,” called Catherine as she looked over her shoulder, but Father Abbott had already returned to care for his little flock. The path opened up and the cart lumbered through the clearing.

“I don’t know how anyone could help those people,” said Tom as if to himself. “It makes me shudder just to think of it.”

“Well, he’s not the first to dedicate his life to caring for the sick and dying,” said Catherine purposely.

“Centuries ago, a devout priest called Botolph arrived in Hadstock and administered to the people of the village. He was a pious and much loved man of considerable courage.

One day, a band of Danish pirates arrived, challenged his beliefs and mocked his Christian values. In response, he accused them of heresy and it is said he had the leader flayed alive and nailed the skin to the door of his church. The Monks of Ely referred to Hadstock as ‘that place sanctified to religion in days of old by the Holy Botolph, there at rest’ but nobody knows for sure where he’s buried.”

“What a terrible story Catherine!”

She smiled at the familiarity of his language, and the use of her Christian name, but it pleased her.

Chapter 26

Tom and Catherine continued their journey north. The story about the Viking being flayed alive had unsettled Tom more than he would have expected and he became pensive and thoughtful. Even for a military man who had seen his fair share of death and destruction, the thought that a man of the cloth had instigated and witnessed such punishment on a fellow human being was almost too much to comprehend.

Deep in thought, Tom broke the silence saying, “If we push hard today, we could be in Fenstanton by dusk. Based on what Reverend Washington told me, I believe it’ll take us ten or more days to get to Stranraer, so I’d like to keep pushing on.”

“I suppose we should, when you put it that way, it makes sense. We still have so far to go, and obviously I’m anxious to get there. You know Tom, I had no idea how large England is…I’m amazed at the villages and towns we’ve passed through, all thriving and full of life. I didn’t realize how beautiful...” Catherine was quiet for a few moments and then said almost in a whisper, “I wonder if my mother stopped at some of these places on her way to Scotland. It’s intriguing to think I may be following in her footsteps.”

“It’s possible I suppose. After all, this is the old Roman Road and is used by everyone traveling north or south. They built good strong roads I’ll say that for them. Pity they didn’t stay longer, but I understand they couldn’t put up with the weather, at least, that’s what our father used to tell us.”

“You mean you and your brothers?” offered Catherine.

Tom’s face hardened, “One brother.”

“I thought Reverend Washington said there were three boys in the family.”

“Yes, there was,” then he fell silent for a few moments, “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

Catherine looked at Tom’s face. It was flushed, a deep frown appeared, and he clenched and unclenched his teeth together. There was pain, hurt and anger in that face, and she wondered what had happened to his family, but she kept quiet.

Jessie plodded pulling the little cart as Toby first ran ahead, then rushed off into the fields and appeared further up the track. He seemed to be enjoying the freedom and the sight of him appearing and disappearing caused Tom laugh out loud.

“Just look at that dog? What’s he playing at?

If the farmer comes by...we’ll get in trouble.”

“He’s not doing any harm, is he?”

Tom’s face had become animated, “Those are crocus fields Catherine.”

“Crocus fields – I thought farmers grew mostly barley and wheat.”

“They did until a century or so ago. Then, someone decided a nosegay would help ward off the plague, and all of a sudden there was a rush for the flower. They are grown here by the hundreds of thousands every year. The town has become very wealthy and of course, that’s how the town got its name. If you come at the end of summer, the fields are awash with the purple hue of the saffron crocus in flower. It’s a beautiful sight.”

Catherine pretended she was looking around at the fields, but surreptitiously looked at Tom’s face. He was more relaxed now, grinning at Toby.

They continued for some time before reaching the outskirts of Cambridge. “Let’s stop here,” said Catherine looking about her, but then she noticed a small band of Cromwell’s roundheads drinking outside an inn. “Perhaps we shouldn’t stop after all. Let’s keep going and be sure not to do anything to attract attention.”

“Me? Why do you make it sound as if I look

for trouble?”

“I didn’t mean anything of the sort, but I suspect you’ve had your fair share of fights along the way, especially in your line of business.”

The barb hit home and Tom sulked.

“I didn’t mean it like that and you know it,” offered Catherine. “It just came out the wrong way.”

Purposefully, Tom changed the subject. “Why are we going to Eyam anyway? Surely it would be better to follow the road north and not make the diversion? It will add at least a day to our journey – I don’t see the point if you’re asking my opinion?”

“Actually, I’m not asking your opinion, but thank you anyway. I promised Mother Superior I would visit her cousin, and I intend to do just that.” Catherine said in a softer voice, “It should only take an extra day or so and it’s the least I can do. Besides, we are making good progress with the help of this cart and Jessie.”

As the mule’s name was mentioned, Jessie’s ears twitched and she quickened her pace into town.

“Anyhow,” continued Catherine, “in just over a week or so, I will be with my family and you can go your own merry way without a second thought for me.”

“I, I,” stuttered Tom, trying to find the right words to express his innermost feelings. “I didn’t mean anything by my comment. I don’t want to be rid of you – I shall miss you,” was all he could say. His cheeks flushed and he fell silent once more.

The thought of Scotland and finding her family made Catherine’s heart skip a beat. So much had happened to her over the last several weeks, she could hardly believe it. Her life had completely turned around since her visit to Hadleigh Castle, meeting the Earl of Essex and Alice – yes Alice. She had to admit the image of the young woman lying in the bed, the blood having drained from her beautiful face, troubled her at night when the world was still. It was not only her handsome face but her smile, that sweet childlike smile and the final word that haunted her dreams. She had to admit, the mysterious young woman was never far from her mind, day or night.

Chapter 27

Catherine’s mind was abuzz with such excitement, she could hardly control herself. It would not be much longer and I will finally know what happened, she thought. But what if she never found out? She had to consider that possibility. What if her mother was dead and she could not locate her mother’s family? Well, her destination was Stranraer on the west coast of Scotland and if they were not there, she would just keep searching until she found them.

Failure was not an option at this point and so she simply pushed the thought from her mind. She looked over to Tom who seemed to be deep in thought himself and wondered how he was faring. After all, he had been branded a thief and therefore had his own demons to deal with. She knew Father Abbott had noticed Tom’s hand when he reached for his bowl of broth, but he had said nothing at the time. She wondered how it would appear to others more judgmental than Father Abbott. It did not matter to her, and no one was likely to see Tom’s hands thanks to the gloves Father Abbott had given him. For the time being, Tom was her guardian and escort and for that Catherine was grateful.

They rumbled along in the little cart with Jessie plodding steadily in the middle of the road as they entered the town of Cambridge. Most of the houses were built in the traditional design with the upper story hanging precariously over the lower, giving the appearance the house could topple over into the street at any moment. The exposed beams of the houses were painted with black pitch to preserve the wood, while the wattle and daub walls had been whitewashed to perfection. Some home owners had gone to great lengths to beautify and distinguish their homes from others by changing the color of the walls. Delicate hues of

pink, yellow, green or blue adorned the homes and the young travelers looked about in amazement.

“I’ve never seen such beautiful homes. The colors are so pretty, and what’s that Tom on that house over there?”

“That’s called pargeting. It’s used to portray a particular trade. See over there that has a sheaf of wheat and a loaf – that’s the baker’s shop. Across the road is the pharmacy with a mortar and pestle plaque and there’s the Smithy with a hammer and tongs. Pargeting is a common sight in the towns of Essex, but I had no idea the custom had spread so far north.”

“Well, I think it is the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” she answered as she looked about. A little breeze whipped up and Catherine snuggled down into her green cloak, the white fur trim framing her face.

Tom looked at her and smiled.”You have little ringlets of red hair sprouting from under your cap.”

Catherine blushed and pushed her hair back inside her muslin cap feeling embarrassed. “You didn’t have to laugh at me,” she said petulantly and sank even lower in her seat.

They watched people come and go from their homes, their front doors leading directly into the High Street.

People laughed and chatted as they went about their daily business. There were men on horses, women with baskets over their arms and children and dogs rushing back and forth causing mischief. Some men stood outside shops smoking clay pipes as they waited on their loved ones inside. This would be a good place to stop she thought as Tom maneuvered the cart carefully around a fruit vendor who had inadvertently stepped out with his hand drawn cart.

“Hey there young fellow,” cried the vendor.

“Take care with other people’s property. You very nearly hit me. Why are you in such a hurry this bright day?”

“I’m in no hurry sir. I didn’t see you appear from the alleyway until it was almost too late. What causes you to be so unpleasant on such a fine day?”

“Unpleasant? Unpleasant you say? You’re quick with a comeback you young scoundrel. Who’d you think you are? Get off that cart and tell me that to my face,” he challenged.

Tom leapt upright in the cart but Catherine tugged on his sleeve and hissed, “Remember our plan Tom?” Fuming, Tom looked down at the man who was ready and spoiling for a fight. A small group of onlookers had heard the initial exchange and stopped what they were doing to watch the action. They stood in a semi circle around the cart; some goading the two men into a fight.

“Who are they anyway? Never seen them before, and here they come to town lording it over us. Give them a piece of your mind Archie,” said one onlooker, obviously a friend.

Catherine was mortified at the attention and tugged again on Tom’s sleeve. “Please, don’t allow this to happen,” she whispered. “Do not cause any more trouble.”

Tom took a deep breath and realized the situation was quickly getting out of hand. Gritting his teeth he said, “I don’t know what I was thinking, my apologies to you kind sir. I’m very sorry if I offended you in any way”.

“Well now, that’s better! Just be a little more careful next time, and watch that quick tongue of yours. It can get you in trouble and you don’t want to deal with the likes of me! I’d knock your block off!” said the vendor loudly looking around at his audience.

This comment was too much for Tom who leapt to his feet once again. Seeing the determined look on Tom’s face, the vendor stepped back fearing Tom would physically jump from the cart. Catherine stood too and placed her hand on Tom’s shoulder.

“I see your companion has more sense than you,” spat the man who quickly wheeled his cart around and left.

“Why did you stop me – he deserved a good thrashing! He didn’t know who he was dealing with…I’d have knocked his block off.”

Red faced and livid with anger, Tom sat down with a thud causing poor Jessie to turn slightly and try to look back at them. “Let’s just leave quietly,” said Catherine.

“Someone in the crowd may have alerted the local constable.

We don’t need anything that will delay our journey. You did the right thing Tom, and I thank you for keeping control of

your emotions.�

Tom was still grumbling as they passed The Lion Inn on the right hand side of the road and saw a small number of soldiers discreetly eyeing the young ladies of the town as they went about their business. Suddenly one of the soldiers yelled out, “Hey, you there, what do you think you’re doing?” Tom and Catherine kept their heads down and pretended they had not heard a thing as Tom switched Jessie’s rump.

“I said – what do you think you’re doing? You two in the cart! Hold I say.” The soldier was shouting now and marching officiously towards them.

Tom stopped the cart and looked down at the soldier who had a scowl on his face.

“I asked you a question young man,” said the soldier. “What are you doing treating your animal so poorly?”

“My mule looks all right to me,” stammered Tom looking down at Jessie.

“I’m not talking about your mule you idiot – I’m talking about your dog! Is it your dog or isn’t it?” he replied gruffly. “See it’s limping badly and you don’t have the kindness in your heart to help it. Shame on you young man.”

He stopped abruptly and stared hard at Tom. “Do I know you?

I’m sure I’ve seen your face somewhere before?”

The question startled Tom and he suddenly remembered the authorities in Essex had circulated a poster with his image and nailed them to every post. It was Catherine who spoke first. “We are on our way to visit family in Eyam and need to get there without delay. We didn’t notice our dog was injured, but if you will help us load him into the cart, we’ll be on our way.”

Tom jumped down from the cart and walked with the soldier over to Toby who sat awkwardly on his rear end, holding his front paw piteously off the ground. Together, they lifted him into the bed of the cart, and he whimpered.

“There, that should do it,” said the soldier as he stroked Toby’s head. “He needs to rest that foot otherwise….” his voice trailed off with the implications.

“You’re on your way to Eyam? Now there’s real trouble if ever I heard. One of our regiments rode through there a few days ago but didn’t stop because of the plague. Who would

have thought it would reach so far from London? By the way, who are your relatives?�

Knowing Tom was completely out of his depth now, Catherine spoke up for the second time. The man looked in her direction and their eyes met. He smiled beguilingly. “Is this your sister?” he said with admiration.

“We are on our way to visit Reverend Mompesson,” she said meekly as she unfastened the cloak and allowed it to drape off her shoulders. The soldier’s eyes moved down towards her habit.

“Forgive me Sister, I didn’t notice. I shouldn’t detain you, but take good care of that dog. It looks as though he’s lame.”

“We will, and thank you for helping us,” said Catherine with the sweetest smile she could muster. The soldier flushed bright red and stepped back muttering something under his breath that neither of them could hear.

When they were gone, Tom could not hold back. “I told you we shouldn’t have brought the damn dog!

Sorry Catherine, I know I shouldn’t swear, but he has been a nuisance ever since we left.”

“No he hasn’t, and he has been running while we have been seated comfortably. In fact, you’ve caused more trouble than Toby! We’ll see to him after we are clear of the town, but please, stop over there and I’ll get some bread. Stay with the cart and don’t attract any more attention, I beg you.”

All of a sudden, Tom let out a deep, throaty laugh. “Did you see his face Catherine? He was just about to flirt with you and then he saw your habit. He went as red as a beetroot, and could hardly speak – he’ll probably never be the same man again,” Tom slapped his leg.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Tom. I merely thanked him and smiled, and then he saw reason.”

“Right, right, whatever you say Catherine,” responded Tom with a sly smile on his face, “but in future, I think you should wear your wimple to save any further embarrassments,” and with that, he guided Jessie to the side of the street and Catherine jumped down nimbly and entered the baker’s shop.

Chapter 28

Once they were clear of Cambridge, they found a quiet clearing just off the track, stopped and climbed into the back of the cart to look at Toby. He whimpered as Catherine picked up his paw, his tongue involuntarily flicking out towards his injury.

On close inspection Catherine commented, “It looks as though a thorn is embedded on the right hand side.

See here, the pad is badly swollen. We need to get the thorn out and allow the wound to bleed, that will cleanse it. Toby will do the rest naturally, but we’ll need to keep him in the cart until his leg can bear his weight. That might take several days.”

Tom sighed but did not utter a word of recrimination. “So be it, Catherine. He’s your dog and you must do what’s best for him. But first things first, let me get the thorn out.”

He took his knife from his belt, and turned towards Toby, who growled loudly.

“Stop that immediately,” said Catherine and the dog sunk his head down between his shoulders. She lifted the dog’s large paw carefully in her hands and eyed the wound with dismay.

“It’s so badly festered, I don’t think we’ll need to lance it, it should come out on its own with the help of a poultice.” Looking around the woods she said, “I’ll make a poultice with those mustard leaves over there, that will draw the poison out, and the thorn should follow. The rest we’ll leave to Toby.”

Tom collected some wood and built a small fire. Catherine boiled some water in a metal cup and mashed the mustard plants to a pulp. She spread the mixture on

Toby’s pad. “The poultice needs to work its way down into the wound – that will take a short while and then we’ll take a look to see if it has done the trick.”

“Well,” said Tom, “let’s get busy eating.”

They ate their food in silence and passed the jug of water back and forth. Catherine wiped the mouth of the jug before she drank but noticed Tom did not.

Catherine sat uncomfortably next to Tom who had rolled a log closer to the fire. She looked at his face and knew he had been disturbed by their encounter with the soldier outside the inn.

“You can leave me at Fenstanton,” she said casually. “There’s no need for you to accompany me all the way to Stranraer. Of course, I hope you would leave the cart and Jessie with me, but I do understand if you wish to return to Essex and your old life.”

“You have a way with you Sister Catherine of both chiding and flattering me at the same time,” he grumbled, “and I must say…you do it very well. No, I promised you I would escort you to Scotland, and I intend to fulfill my promise.”

“Well then, please make an attempt to be friendly. You have been very quiet and deep in thought since the soldier mentioned the plague. I do understand your worries, and wish I could change things…but I can’t! I promised Mother Superior I would visit her cousin, Reverend Mompesson, and I won’t go back on my word.”

“Understood,” was all Tom would say. They saw the poultice had hardened and done the trick. As Catherine gently lifted one corner the wound burst open bringing with it blood, pus and a very large thorn. Toby whimpered and immediately began licking his wound.

Catherine walked off to fill the tin cup with water. Placing it next to Toby’s head she said, “Here you are my dear friend, drink.” The dog lapped until the cup was empty.

“It’s up to him now – he knows what to do,” she said as she watched his tongue flick in and out. “Now the poison’s gone, he should recover quickly.”

But Tom did not hear her as he doused the fire with dirt. “Let’s be on our way Catherine, this has already taken too long.”

Over the next few days, Catherine and Tom fell into a quiet, comfortable daily routine staying at monasteries and priories along the way, conserving the little money they had in Catherine’s satchel. One morning after spending the night in Bury St. Edmunds Tom pulled the cart

through Abbots Gate and turned right onto Angel Hill.

“It’s a strange name for a town don’t you think Catherine?”

“Do you really not know how it got its name?”

“No, but I have a funny feeling you’re going to tell me,” he said with little smile.

“King Edmund was only 15 years old when he was crowned King of East Anglia on Christmas Day in the year 855. According to the Anglo-Saxon Chronicles he was a good and virtuous ruler who cared deeply for his people but he perished at the hands of Ivar the Dane because he would not renounce his Christianity.”

At the mention of a king dying at the hands of a murderous Dane, Tom suddenly became interested and listened.

“The monks who wrote the Chronicles said a horde of Vikings arrived on the eastern shores of England, and lost no time in conquering every village in their path; ravaging and pillaging until nothing was left. Finally an ultimatum came from the Vikings to the king. ‘You will surrender your possessions and your people to me or die.’ The king summoned his most faithful bishop for guidance but his suggestion that the king should flee was unacceptable. ‘…Alas bishop, I would rather die fighting so that my people might continue to possess their native land.’

Catherine shifted in her seat and took a deep breath. “The Chronicles tell us King Edmund was captured, tortured unmercifully and suffered unmentionable terror. The Dane offered Edmund his life if he would renounce Christ. He would not, and he was lashed until he almost died. With every lash he cried Jesus’ name infuriating his captors. In the end, he was tied to a tree and killed ‘...by a hail of arrows so that hardly a place on his body was not covered with arrows. He was then beheaded.’ As a final insult, the pirates hid King Edmund’s head in the forest so that it could not be buried with his body. Some say the head was taken and used as a drinking vessel.

Soon after King Edmund’s death, the Britons and some reformed Danes began to regard him as a saint because of his courageous life and honorable death. A shrine was erected and pilgrims traveled from all over Britain to

honor the great man. The pilgrimages brought great wealth to the town. The pilgrims spent money at the markets and inns.

They bought clothing, leather goods and cutlery and the town flourished.

It’s believed the body of King Edmund was brought to this place and buried – that’s how it got its name.

Even so, some still believe his remains are in the churchyard at St. Andrews’s church in Essex, but that’s a whole different story.”

Chapter 29

It was late in the afternoon when Catherine and Tom approached the village of Eyam, and the scene was chaotic. There were carts of every description and size piled high with household goods and family heirlooms. A woman with a crying baby in her arms walked beside her husband who dragged an aging parent along on a makeshift litter.

There was an air of desperation about the place as the people hurried along in the opposite direction to Catherine and Tom. They had not expected to see such a mass exodus. There were always those who ran before any plague outbreak, but the number of people leaving Eyam was surprisingly high.

One man called over his shoulder. “Have you not heard – the plague is with us. You must be mad if you’re going to town. It will be a certain death sentence for you…and you too Sister? Think again I beg you, turn around before it’s too late.”

“I think that’s sage advice,” muttered Tom as they meandered around the people, carts and horses.

Catherine ignored him, but she too was getting worried.

“It’s up to you whether you accompany me or not. I won’t think less of you if you decide to turn back.”

“No, no, I said I’d stay, but I do think this is the most foolish decision you’ve made yet. Have you ever seen a person who has the plague? I have, and it’s not a pretty sight I can tell you. Few people survive and there is no rhyme or reason as to who escapes. It afflicts everyone from nobleman to serf.” He watched her face and saw no change in the determined look. “But I can see I will not be able to change your mind, so let’s get this over with and then we can be on our way.”

They pushed on as the people of Eyam parted to let them through. They could hear some say, “Mad, they’re completely mad. Pure folly if you ask me!”

The steady stream of people finally became a trickle as Catherine and Tom reached a group of men who were barricading the road using carts, large branches, and almost anything else they could find.

“What are you doing?” inquired Catherine.

“We’re doing as we were instructed by the Reverend Mompesson. His final instructions to us were to blockade the road to keep travelers from entering and also to keep others from leaving. If you ask me, he’s signed his own death warrant and that of his family because he’s refused to leave. Once we have finished this, we will be gone too.”

Tom ignored the men and maneuvered Jessie and the cart around the obstacle. The men watched and shook their heads in disbelief.

As Tom and Catherine made their way down the little hill into the town of Eyam, there was no sound other than the rumble of their carts wheels on the cobbled street.

The air was still and quiet, no birds twittered, no dogs barked.

Tom became solemn, pointed to a house said almost in a whisper. “See that sign on the door over there – the one with the red cross. It means the seeds of doom are inside, Catherine. Look, there’s another and another.” He shuddered as he pointed in the direction of a line of homes, built with local stone each with a cross on the door.

Catherine stood up in the cart. From this vantage point she could see the gardens that had once been carefully tended and now showed signs of neglect. Even so, the heads of daffodils, narcissus and hyacinths poked their green heads through the dark earth as they tried to reach the sun.

“Catherine, Catherine – look,” Tom hissed now pointing across the street. Almost every home bore the ominous cross and suddenly Catherine wondered if she had made the right decision.

“What shall we do now?” whispered Tom as if fearful the plague would attack him at any moment.

“I have to find the Reverend Mompesson; otherwise it will be a wasted journey.”

“I’d rather waste my time than my life!” responded Tom sarcastically under his breath as he climbed down from the cart and offered his hand to Catherine. He followed her towards the church. She stopped in the graveyard studying a magnificent Anglo Saxon cross that stood close to the church door. She looked about and saw a small cluster of early primroses and she picked a bunch reverently laying them at the base of the cross. They stood for a few moments looking around the churchyard. There were several newly dug graves; some still open with the shovels stuck in the piles of earth. Tom commented sarcastically.

“That’s an encouraging sight.”

She ignored him and instead walked from the churchyard. Turning to her right, she came across a row of tithe cottages with thatched roofs. Out of the seven flint stoned homes, all but one had the now familiar cross painted on the door. “Tell me you’re not going…” but it was too late.

Catherine pushed the gate open and marched up to the door.

Taking the door knocker in her hand, she rapped it loudly and a voice called from within.

“Who is it? Is that you Johnson? I told you to leave as soon as you’d finished the barricade.” The door opened and a tall, gaunt man appeared in the doorway. His black frockcoat was filthy; his linen shirt which must have been pure white at one time was grimy and stained. If he usually wore a wig, he had abandoned it. His gray hair matched his dull gray eyes; and his dejected mood indicated he had things other than cleanliness on his mind.

“Good God almighty,” Reverend Mompesson said aloud in surprise as he stepped back. “What on earth brings you to our village? Are you not aware of our predicament? You must leave here immediately.”

“Yes we were told on our way here, but I come from your cousin, Elinor, Mother Superior at Hedingham. She is worried about you and your family. My name is Sister Catherine MacDonald and this is my companion Tom Black. Your cousin wanted me to do whatever I could to help you, and to let you know she is praying for you.”

“Well I never! Please, please come inside and

let me welcome you properly.�

Catherine and Tom stepped inside the home.

The house was in complete disarray. By the looks of it, the rushes on the floor had not been changed in weeks. They smelled stale. There were food bowls and spoons scattered across the table. A small fire burned in the grate giving out almost no heat; there were no logs in the basket.

Chapter 30

Mompesson busied himself at a table against a wall and returned with a tray of spiced ale, bread and cheese.

“This is all we have I’m afraid,” he said setting the tray on the table, “But nothing is so small as not to be shared. How is my cousin, is she well?”

“Mother Superior is very well. We struggle as most priories do, but we have one main benefactor who is very kind, the Earl of Essex.

Reverend Mompesson smiled. “Yes, the Earl and how is he?”

“He continues to support our priory.” She began to wonder how much the reverend really knew.

“Good, good, I’m glad my cousin is healthy.

Now, tell me what you are doing in these parts? What brings you so far from home?”

Catherine quickly told the reverend that she was on family business and hoped to return to the priory within a few weeks.

“I wish you God speed for your journey Sister, but I did not see a horse and carriage.”

“We are not so well off that we could afford such a luxury at the priory, but Father John who runs the monastery outside Saffron Walden provided the cart and his faithful old mule, Jessie.”

“I see, I see,” muttered Mompesson. “I’ve heard of the good man although I’ve not had the pleasure of meeting him. It sounds as though you have everything worked out Sister. I admire what you are doing. Friends may come and go but family is forever. Please, on your return, give my cousin my kindest regards and tell her I welcome her prayers for we will need all the help we can get.”

“I will,” replied Catherine, “but please tell me what’s happened here in Eyam. I thought the plague was primarily in the port towns and never dreamed it had migrated so far into the countryside.”

“Yes, we too were surprised,” he said dismally. “First of all the tailor became ill, then his wife and three children – they have all died since. Then the blacksmith and his family became ill and died within three days of the tailor. I worry for my own family…but how can I leave? This is my home; these are my people and my responsibility. How can I leave them in their hour of need?”

The Reverend seemed about to break down but rallied himself, rubbed his hand over the gray stubble on his chin, and took a deep breath.

“But how will you survive?” asked Tom. “You will eventually run out of food and other supplies. What will you do then?”

Reverend Mompesson gave a wry smile. “We have devised a plan with the help of our neighboring village.

They want to keep their distance because they fear the seeds of doom may enter their village too, but I think our plan will work.”

Tom gave a curious look and cocked his head to one side as he asked his question.

“Forgive me for saying Reverend, but surely you have given your parishioners a death sentence by asking them to stay in the village?”

The statement stung but the reverend replied kindly. “I gave them the option of leaving or staying, but I suppose if you put it that way, that’s exactly what we have done – given those that stay a death sentence. The elders of the village and I made the decision, it was not my decision alone. But you tell me…Do you not think it is in the best interests of our fellow man to contain the disease?”

“Why yes,” stammered Tom embarrassed by his self-centered thoughts, “but how can you be confident any of you will survive?”

“That we do not know but we are doing all we can. We do not meet in the church anymore and instead hold our services in the open air. In fact, we do not assemble inside any building because we believe that’s how the disease spreads. It seems to be working. Of course we pray constantly?”

Tom scoffed, “Forgive me father, but your prayers may not be enough to save you.”

Reverend Mompesson sighed. “I should answer your question properly because you have raised it. I mentioned earlier there is a village just over the hill,” he pointed towards the north. “There is a stream that separates our two villages and therefore will provide a natural defense against the disease. Just yesterday, we set up a pulley and line across that stream. When we need supplies, we will put a list in the bucket with money that’s been steeped in vinegar to avoid any contamination. Then we will use the pulley and line to carry it across the stream. Likewise, they can transport our goods back to us in the bucket without our hands ever touching. What do you think of that?” Mompesson asked triumphantly.

“Well, I must admit,” said Tom, “that’s an ingenious plan.”

“We choose not to look too far ahead Tom,” said the reverend quietly. “Besides, the Lord helps those that help themselves. Now, do you have enough to eat? I’m suddenly quite tired and will retire for the night. It’s been a long day and my wife Elizabeth and my children are already fast asleep. Finish your food and I suggest you sleep here the night. Catherine, you may sleep in the front room next to the fire. I will get a blanket for you. And you Tom can sleep in the back of the house next to the kitchen area. I encourage you to stay here, for I cannot guaranty your safety otherwise.”

Morning came quickly and the house began to bustle with the movements of the family. Bleary eyed, Tom raised himself on one elbow and watched a pleasant looking woman starting a fire.

“Good morning,” she said “My husband told me we had guests. Welcome, my name is Elizabeth Anne. Did you have a restful night’s sleep?”

Tom was about to answer when Catherine walked through the door into the kitchen. “I’m sure we both had a good night’s sleep, and Tom will thank you by chopping some wood, won’t you Tom?” Tom staggered outside and Catherine she said taking the initiative. “Thank you so much for helping us.”

Elizabeth looked kindly at Catherine and smiled. “I was embarrassed to know you’d seen our house in such a mess.

It’s not normally, but there is so much to do and I feel so poorly. Almost every household has been afflicted, and we simply do not know when it will end. But enough of our troubles, my husband tells me you are on the way to Scotland in search of your mother.”

“Compared to what’s going on your life, my problems seem insignificant. You must be very concerned for the safety of your children?”

“Of course,” responded Elizabeth, “but my place is at my husband’s side, and our children should be by our side. I have faith that we’ll all survive,” she said wistfully.

The silence that followed was broken by the sound of an axe splitting wood and Catherine opened the door as Tom wiped his brow on the sleeve of his shirt.

Elizabeth came alongside and said almost in a whisper, “He seems like an honorable man.”

“Yes, he is,” responded Catherine, “he has his faults as we all do, but underneath, I believe he has a good heart.”

“Why don’t you sit for a few moments Sister, I should like to talk with you. I know a little about your family, although I never had the pleasure of meeting them.

Elinor sent letters to William often talking about her mystery charge. We knew your mother had not returned for you and, as a mother that broke my heart. William and I stayed up late last night discussing your predicament. We’d like to help you.

Take a look outside; William has something special for you.”

Elizabeth and Catherine walked towards the door and he opened it cautiously. Standing outside was a fine carriage with two beautiful black horses hitched and ready for travel.

“Do you have more visitors?” inquired Catherine.

“No – that is for you. We want you to have the use of our carriage and horses for your journey to Scotland.

You can bring them back when you return. They’ll make your journey all the easier and we won’t be using them for the time being.” Catherine thought she had detected a catch in Elizabeth’s voice and knew what she was thinking…that they may never need them again.

“What are you looking at,” said Tom as he rounded the corner of the house holding an armful of logs.

Toby was at his side, his tail wagging.

Catherine was clapping her hands together.

“Look Tom, look at what we’ve got. We can use them to go to Scotland.”

Tom could hardly believe his eyes and cried aloud, “Good grief! We’d they come from? They must be worth a fortune. I’m not sure I want the responsibility,” he stroked one of the horses’ rumps as Reverend Mompesson appeared in the doorway.

“Nonsense, you’ll bring them back on your return. Besides, I’m doing this for my cousin,” answered Mompesson with a smile.

“Do you know what this means? We’ll be in Scotland within the week.” Tom said as he walked towards Catherine smiling. He placed his hands on her shoulders. “In less than a week, you’ll have answers to your questions.”

Catherine thought she might faint with excitement. She brought her hands to her mouth to stifle the sob she knew was coming. Instead of stepping away from him, she drew closer and placed her hand affectionately on his. Almost in a whisper she said, “We’re so close Tom; we’re so close to discovering everything.”

PART II Scotland – September - 1639

Chapter 31

Six months earlier and five hundred miles north of Essex on the shores of Galloway, Scotland, Margaret MacDonald and her daughter Alice, whispered in the darkness of the cave. They watched as the rest of their clan, all twenty-five men, women and children sit around the fire hunched over, guarding their food. Some scolded cats that ran from one to the other begging for a morsel, as others kicked the cats away. Still the cats came and prowled the perimeter, hissing and scavenging.

The clan licked their fingers made greasy with fat. Blood dripped from their mouths. Occasionally, their leader, Sawney Bean looked over at mother and daughter and cussed silently under his breath. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he scowled in their direction. He was jealous of their close relationship, always had been.

“He’s watching us,” said Margaret, “Be careful, keep your voice down.” She leaned forward and embraced her child, “I’m sorry your baby died. I know you’re unhappy, but sometimes these things happen for the best.”

Alice began to sob, “But he was so beautiful.

His tiny hands, his tiny feet, oh my God mother, please don’t say such things.”

“Stop it! Stop it! He’s in God’s hands now. At least he’ll not suffer as we have all these years.”

“You’re wicked! My poor baby died in my arms and where were you? You were servicing Sawney as usual. You’re always with him – I’ve heard you, night after night.”

Margaret grabbed her daughter and shook her violently. “Do you think I want to be with him? I do it to keep him away from you!” She pulled her daughter close. “We do

what we have to do to survive and protect our loved ones, remember that.�

Alice melted into her mother’s arms, but pushed back immediately, bringing her hand to her open mouth. “What’s wrong? You’ve lost so much weight. You’re no more than a bag of bones,” she began to cry. “I’ve hadn’t noticed you were unwell.” She picked up the candle, and held it close to her mother’s face. The sight scared her. Her mother’s eyes had shrunk into her skull, her lips were pure white, and her skin had a waxy appearance.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Taking her daughter’s hands in her own and bringing them to her lips, Margaret whispered. “I didn’t want to worry you, especially with all your troubles, but I’m very ill. The pain in my stomach hurts so much sometimes, I don’t think I can bear it much longer. I’m also losing a lot of blood.

I’m scared I won’t be here when you need me,” she now began to cry. “But promise me this...if I should die, you must leave this place. They’d be nothing to stop you if I’m gone.

You must do it...do you hear me Alice?” she said earnestly.

“You must do it before you are with child again. If that happens – all will be lost.”

Alice looked down at the hands that gripped her, the knuckles white. Even in the feeble light, she could see the passion in her mother’s face and heard it in her voice.

“Sawney will need you Alice – they’ll all need you; just as they needed me,” she whispered, “but you can use that to escape this place. He and the others will do terrible things to you, things I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.

Promise me you’ll run away.”

The outburst seemed to drain the last energy from Margaret’s body. She hung her head until she heard her daughter response. “You have my word Mother.”

Sawney sat cross legged on the ground. More than once, he looked over at the two women deep in conversation. He watched as Alice embraced her mother and shook his head. Running his greasy hands through his long grey hair, he pulled it to the nape of his neck and tied it with string. With a deep sigh, he hung his head and tried to push the thoughts of Margaret from his mind. She had told him last week she was seriously ill, and doubted she would survive.

The thought that she would not be there for him to calm him

during his nightmares, sent chills down his spine. It was followed by a dark mood. The clan watched and waited. They had never seen their leader behave this way; it both mystified and frightened them. The fire crackled, sparks flew into the air and not a word was spoken.

The end came mercifully quickly for Margaret a few days later, but not a single soul shed a tear, except Alice. Sawney moped about, moody and distracted, and then the arguments began. What would they do with her body?

Sawney had had the last word. Margaret would be carried out to sea at low tide, and allowed to drift with the current.

Alice was devastated. She openly wept from morning until night. The men stayed away from her, even Sawney kept his distance, and she was grateful. She had not known the father of her baby, and did not care. She only knew her nightly visitors by their smell as they rolled her over. She never fought them off, there was no point. They came to her late into her pregnancy too and she wondered if that had been the reason for her baby’s death. She seethed with anger at the prospect of losing her baby and longed to hold him in her arms once more. What had happened to his little body, she did not know.

At low tide the following morning, four men carried Margaret’s body out to sea. The early morning mist rose from the sea in ghostly wisps as Alice watched from the entrance of the cave. The men pushed the body away, and allowed it to drift with the current. Her mother’s body bobbed a few times, and then sank out of sight. Splashing their way back through the shallow waters, the men laughed and made jokes. Alice followed them numbly back to the fire as one man muttered, “The fish and crabs will take care of her.”

Alice ran at him, her outstretched hands trying to claw his eyes. He swatted her backwards as though she were a fly.

Everyone laughed loudly as they sat for their morning meal.

Alice did not eat but buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

Chapter 32

What has become of us thought Sawney as he surveyed his clan? What have we become? Had it really been fifteen years since he had stumbled across the cave? He was fortunate to find it but then, few people ventured down to the beach, believing the spirits of lost souls haunted the caves to this very day. Fishermen, known to be overly superstitious, fed into that notion by telling stories of seeing ghostly forms rising from the mist on moonless nights.

Superstition had kept the townsfolk from the area especially after dark. There were stories of ghouls and headless riders, carriages with four black plumbed horses bolting along at breakneck speed without coach drivers or passengers. Then there were the stories of witches and goblins that lived in the woods above and fed off travelers. Stories his father told him as they dug ditches and graves for the rich folk in town.

At first, when he ventured into the cave at low tide, he believed as others did before him that it was merely twenty or thirty feet in depth. But, as he ventured farther into the cave he came to what looked like a solid wall. On closer inspection and using his hands as a guide, he found a crevice in the wall. Taking a deep breath, he slid through the gap and found himself in total darkness. He stood silently taking in the sounds of the cave and had the distinct impression it went back much farther into the cliff. A thief by nature, he longed for a place where he could hide his contraband and sell it when the coast was clear. A good thief always kept a low profile never drawing attention to what he was doing, but hiding the ill gotten gains was always a problem. He dreaded the authorities banging on his door in the middle of the night to search his home. But this cave promised to be a secret and

secure place where ghosts and ghouls ruled the beaches at night, and the townspeople kept their distance.

He had chuckled with the thought and decided to come back the following day to explore it properly. He wondered how far the sea reached inside the cave at high tide – that would be very important. He could see how foolish and impetuous young men could easily enter the cave only to be cut off at high tide and drown.

The following day he sat at Bennane Head patiently smoking as he waited for the tide to recede, then he clambered down the cliff quickly. He stood on the pebbly beach looking this way and that to be sure he had not been seen entering the cave. Making his way to the wall, he felt for the crevice and slid behind it. Once on the other side, he pulled three torches from underneath his coat and lit one of them. It spluttered and blazed to life as he held it aloft. Soon the glow allowed him to get his bearings and he trekked forward. He noticed the high water mark soon after passing through the crevice and was thrilled to discover the cave was relatively dry and slated upwards for almost a quarter of a mile under the earth. As one torch began to die, he lit another and kept going. Finally, he reached the end of the trail and his mouth dropped open with amazement. He stood in a huge, cavernous area approximately fifty feet wide and seventy-five feet long, with a ceiling almost as high. It was absolutely breathtaking. He could not believe his luck.

After that first day, Sawney visited his hideaway at every opportunity. Each time he took something he knew he would need, blankets, candles, torches, whiskey and straw. There was only thing that bothered him – the rats!

There seemed to be hundreds of them scurrying ahead of his torch light. He hated rats, feared them in fact, and knew the damage they could do. Anything he brought to the cave would be devoured within hours. He shuddered when he heard their claws scrap the stones, and watched with horror as their whip like tails swished from side to side. When they turned, the light caught their beady little eyes and they glowed like hot coals in the darkness. I know how to take care of you thought Sawney, and the following day, he brought two large cats in a sack over his shoulder, and set them loose. After that, he jealously guarded his secret. It was his – his very own place, until he met Agnes and then everything changed.

Agnes was the daughter of the tavern owner, and what a handsome woman. He could not explain why she attracted him so much, perhaps it was her large breasts that bounced as she walked towards him. She knew what she was doing, but he could not take his eyes off her. This woman had spunk and spirit and he wanted her badly.

When Sawney returned to the tavern the following day, he positioned himself at the rear where he could watch Agnes go about her chores. She sauntered over and smiled. “What can I do for you today sir?” her smile was flirtatious and mischievous as she placed a tankard of ale on the table before him leaning across the table seductively.

When she walked by a second time, he spun her around forcing her to sit on his lap as he nestled his face in her voluptuous breasts. Instead of slapping his face, she smiled coyly, kissed his cheek and pushed him away just as her father appeared. After that, Sawney returned to the tavern daily quietly fostering a relationship he hoped would turn into something more. He had never seriously considered taking a wife, but this woman, who appeared to be everything he desired, had a hardness about her that fascinated him. She had stolen his heart and he was determined to have her.

If Sawney thought his attentions to Agnes were a secret, he was sorely mistaken. Agnes’s father had noticed the blossoming relationship, and did everything he could to stop it – even threatening a sound beating.

“Be reasonable Agnes,” he begged, “you are my only daughter and I love you above all else. I will not stand by and watch you throw yourself away. What can he offer you? He is worthless and has no prospects – for God’s sake, he and his father dig ditches and graves for a living.

Have you considered he is merely after your money?”

But Agnes would have none of it. Her lover provided everything she wanted and she would change her mind. “If you leave me,” threatened her father, “I will cut you off, do you understand? You will not get one penny from me.”

But she had chosen Sawney Bean to be her lover, provider and protector, and Agnes’s father had kept his threat and disowned her.

Chapter 33

Sawney remembered the afternoon he introduced Agnes to his special place. She shuddered, her body shook with fear and he wrapped his arm around her shoulder as they walked towards the crevice. “You’ll need to be careful; it’s very dark on the other side. I’ll go first and then you follow me. He slid his body through the gap in the cave wall. He called to Agnes. “Come on – hurry! I want you to see my special place.”

Sawney lit the first torch as Agnes sidled up to him. He held her hand. Her eyes shone with excitement in the semi darkness, the torch flame reflecting in her eyes. She kissed him hard on the mouth and it thrilled him.

“Come on,” he whispered hoarsely “It gets better!” They quickened their pace. Sawney held the torch out in front and struggled to keep up with Agnes was almost running in her eagerness. She gripped his hand so hard, it hurt. He could feel the excitement building and he began to worry that she might be disappointed with him, and his plan.

They reached the back of the cave and Agnes snatched the torch from Sawney and ran from one thing to the other, picking the items up and looking at things he had collected over the weeks. A large black cat sat on a mattress that he had filled with straw, blankets were piled at one end, and there was flask of whiskey and candles. He could see by her smile she was pleased and it filled his heart with joy. He wanted so badly to please her, and make her happy. He lit several candles with the torch and stuffed it into the ground to douse the flame. He waited for a few seconds to allow the candles to flicker and take hold before turning towards his woman.

She was lying on the mattress watching his face. “Is this what you want? Well, you’d better come and get it then.” She undid the buttons on her bodice and her large breasts fell open to the cool air. Her nipples became hard and she lifted her skirt.

Sawney fumbled with his trousers. This was something new to him. Never before had he been involved with a woman who was as sexually aggressive as himself.

Usually, it took several months of wooing and promises to get a woman to sleep with him, and even then he felt as though he had forced them. This woman wanted him as much as he wanted her. She put her arms out to him and he walked towards her in a daze. He could not control himself. He cupped her left breast and nuzzled his face in her neck as they lay on the mattress. She moaned loudly with pleasure and he entered her for the very first time.

They met often after that enjoying each others’ bodies, but it was always on Agnes’s terms. She turned into a different person inside the cave losing any inhibitions she displayed outside. She was always the dominant one demanding Sawney perform acts he had never even imagined let alone perform. Not that he ever complained, but it was still unnerving to be upstaged by a woman.

Life was never the same after Agnes joined him in his hideout. They had their ups and downs like any couple, but there was one thing he had not anticipated – Agnes had a violent streak. He had seen hints of it once or twice during their courtship, but the first time he had seen her violence in action was when she killed a cat with her bare hands. Strangled it without a care in the world, and slung it aside like a rag doll. Over the years, he had seen her do other things more terrifying.

Over the following months, he visited Agnes when he knew her father was out of town on business. On one occasion, he knew something was wrong as soon as he entered the inn. Agnes was sullen and moody and, after coaxing and trying to make her laugh, she finally told him she was expecting his child.

“What do you plan on doing about it?” he

asked.

“What do you bloody well think I should do?

You got me into this mess – what do you plan on doing about it?” They both looked at each other and burst into laughter just as a new customer entered the inn. She too was expecting a child although far more along. She wore clothes that were so tight; they stretched absurdly across her stomach and breasts giving her an almost comical appearance. She looked exhausted and sat down wearily on a bench.

Agnes looked around the inn. The last two men downed the last of their ale and made their way to the door. Agnes sauntered over to the woman. “Now what can I do for you madam?” she said as she looked the woman up and down. She wore a dark blue dress of the finest taffeta Agnes had ever seen. Her brown lace-up boots appeared to be made in the softest kid leather, and she fumbled with a beautiful silver brooch that held her cloak at her neck. The woman began to cry immediately and pulled a delicate lace handkerchief to her nose.

“I apologize for my tears, but I am literally at wit’s end. I have been searching for my family for months ending up in Stranraer. There I was told the family, or what’s left of it moved to Glasgow. I’m on my way there but I cannot walk any farther. Please help me. I have no money and I need a place to stay for a few days. I can help in the kitchen. I can prepare food.”

Agnes took in the bearing of the woman. She wore good quality clothes and must have come from a good family. The red haired woman sat down wearily and tried to get her breath. She pulled off her gloves and Agnes could see the lily white hands of a woman who had never worked a hard day in her life.

“What can I do to help you?” She sat down opposite the woman. “Perhaps you’d like a nice tankard of ale?”

“Thank you for your kindness. I’m so thirsty and tired. If you only knew what I’ve been through over these months, you would understand my distress.”

“I have all the time in the world my dear,” responded Agnes in a comforting tone as she placed a drink on the table and stroked Margaret’s arm. “You can tell me everything if you think it will make you feel better.”

The warmth of the fire and the potent ale worked to loosen her tongue. It was not long before Agnes had heard the whole story from beginning to end.

“When I got to Stranraer I was told my parents and younger brother died when their boat overturned in the Firth during a terrible storm,” she said unhappily, “and I have only one sister left who married and moved to Glasgow. I will try to find her as she is my only family, unfortunately, I don’t know her married name. As I said, I have no money and nowhere to live, and this baby will not wait too much longer,” she said pitifully as she stroked her stomach.

Agnes looked over to Sawney who was smiling broadly and leaning on the counter in the far corner of the inn. She beckoned for him to come over.

“No need to say a word, I heard everything,” he said as they both eyed the woman. He took in the measure of the woman. She was very beautiful in a way that Agnes was not. She spoke well, was refined and obviously well educated. He was fascinated by her.

“I have a proposal,” said Agnes. “We know of a place – a secret place that’s well hidden. We could take you there and you could have your baby. Don’t be afraid, I’ve helped deliver other babies. When you have your child, you may stay as long as you want or move on. That would be up to you. It wouldn’t cost you a penny and… when you felt better, you could try to find your sister. How does that sound?”

“You would do that for me, a complete stranger?”

“Of course I would – we’re friends now aren’t we? You’d do it for me wouldn’t you?” said Agnes winking at Sawney.

Agnes looked over to Margaret and saw she had put her head down on the table to rest. She fell asleep in minutes.

“Give me an hour,” whispered Sawney. “The tide will be out soon and then I’ll take her.”

“My father will be back soon anyway, so she’ll have to be gone before he returns. You just behave yourself Sawney Bean; I saw the way you were looking at her,” she said accusingly.

Had it really been 15 years ago? Sawney could

remember everything as though it had happened only yesterday. What would become of them? The clan was getting more and more difficult to control. Margaret was dead and it would not be too long before the winter months closed in – the thought terrified him.

Chapter 34

A week after Margaret’s death, Sawney came to her in the middle of the night. “Move over Alice, I’ve got something for you.”

Alice shuddered and begged, “Please, please don’t – it’s too soon after my baby.”

“Keep your damn mouth shut. I’ve wanted you for days. Now, do as you’re told. Be a good girl.”

Alice began to sob quietly and lifted her skirt obediently. He entered her roughly, holding his hand over her mouth to stifle the whimpering sounds she could not contain.

“Stop that bloody noise. Your mother used to be the same way, but she soon learned to behave, and you’ll be no different. I suppose you like the younger bucks don’t you?

Well, they had you and now you’re mine, and you’ll stay that way – do you hear me girl.” He thrust himself inside her, panting and grunting until he had finished, then rolled away.

After he had finished, she turned her face away from him, but he grabbed it and turned it back. Speaking softly he said, “You’ll be going into Ballantrae soon – I need some whiskey and other things.”

She nodded in the darkness, “Yes Sawney,” but he did not see and had already turned away.

When the pain had passed, she thought you were right mother, you were always right, and she fell into a fitful night’s sleep. She dreamed of her dead baby, his dark curly hair and pale skin. Her mother came in her dream too, whispering things she could not hear.

The following morning Alice awoke to a fight between Sawney and one of the younger men who had challenged him.

“Why do you always get the best meat? And

why do you eat before the rest of us. You don’t deserve it – you should take your turn like everyone else,” the young man screamed, spitting into Sawney’s face.

Sawney wiped the spittle from his face.

“Because I say so...and I’m your leader. When you’re the leader...” he did not finish his sentence.

“Leader, leader – you couldn’t lead a horse to water. Look at you; you’re getting old, weak and slow. You poor old git, I pity you.”

The insult was too much for Sawney and he rushed at the younger man, bodily knocking him down. They both fell close to the fire, rolling back and forth, but the younger man was faster and stronger. He was up in an instant, seething with anger, his hands clenched, ready to fight.

Looking down at Sawney he said. “I see you’ve no stomach for me on old man?” He mocked, “But I warn, if you ever lay a hand on me again, it’ll be the last thing you do.”

The clan watched in amazement as Sawney brought himself to his knees, and then staggered upright.

Agnes was the first to speak, “Watch the food you stupid idiots, it’s all we have for the time being and we have to make it last. Instead of picking fights Sawney, why don’t you tell us what you plan on doing now that your precious Margaret is gone? We all know she was your favorite, but it’s no good crying over spilled milk. The bitch is gone, and what you need to be thinking about Sawney Bean is what we’re going to do to replace her.”

Sawney looked at Agnes with a sneer on his face, wanting to hurt her. “I’ve already decided – Alice will take her mother’s place. She has everything she needs, her mother’s good looks, grace and bearing…” He did not finish, knowing he had gone too far.

Agnes screamed vehemently. “God damn your soul Sawney. Yes, she’s just like her mother in more ways than one no doubt. If you’d had your way, there would have been red haired little devils running all over the place, but she couldn’t produce one for you could she, damaged like she was? But you enjoyed trying all the same didn’t you Sawney?”

Alice began to sob quietly, covered her ears and moved to the other side of the fire, as far away from the group as possible.

Sawney glared at Agnes but spoke directly to his son, Robert. “Tomorrow, you’ll take Alice into Ballantrae to sell the gold watch we took last week. It should bring a tidy sum and you can buy our supplies. I need some whiskey, tobacco, candles and lots of other things. You’ll need to watch her closely though Robert. Watch her as though your life depends upon it...because it does.”

Robert hesitantly looked over to Alice. She had not been the same since her baby and mother had died. He recalled how his brothers and sisters avoided her because they could not understand her grief. They were numb to such emotions and kept away from her as much as possible. It was only Robert who dared to sit by her side this morning. He waited patiently for her to speak. It had always been this way when she was upset, even as a child. Over the years, he had learned to be tolerant. Finally, as she stared into the embers she spoke softly.

“Over the last days of my mother’s life, she told me everything. Everything! Do you understand Robert?

How she came to be here, why she stayed so long, and why she never ran away.”

Robert gulped and looked around the group to make sure nobody was listening. Only one person was watching them closely from the other side of the fire – his mother.

“Shush Alice, keep your voice down. You know what will happen if they hear you.”

“Stop it Robert. I’m going to have my say. Do you really think what we do here is normal? What we eat is normal? It’s not and you know it, even if you don’t want to admit it. Mother told me those in the outside world are forbidden to do what we do, and yet we do it year in and year out. She was disgusted by the vile and despicable things that go on here, but she’s gone now, as is my baby. There’s nothing to stop me.”

Glancing around nervously Robert asked, “Stop you from doing what? What do you mean Alice?”

“You really don’t understand do you? They’ve never told you have they?” she spat. “Sawney and Agnes took advantage of my mother when she was at her lowest ebb.

They controlled her by controlling me, demanding she perform the most dreadful acts any human being could ask of another. How do you think that makes me feel? They said they would kill me if she didn’t do as they asked. The weeks turned into months and the months turned into years. She was so worn down and disgusted she wanted to die. She knew she could never return to the outside world. How could she tell her sister, even if she found her, what she’d done here – how she’d behaved? She would be shunned by the community, ostracized by all decent God fearing people. It was only when she knew she was dying, that she urged me to leave before it was too late.”

Robert gasped. “Leave. But you can’t leave me. What would you do? Where would you go?”

“Don’t you see? Are you blind? Are you mad?

Anything would be better than this!”

“Stop that whispering over there?” screeched Agnes from the other side of the fire. “Leave her alone Robert. I know what you’re after, you randy little bugger, Oh, she thinks she’s better than the rest of us, just like her damn mother, but that will all change in good time.” She cackled loudly and looked about her encouraging others to join the goading.

Alice refused her tormentors the pleasure of seeing her cry. “Let me tell you what really happened,” she cleared her throat and began whispering again.

“Do you really think my mother liked what she did here? Enjoyed it for God’s sake? My mother said after I was born, she was coerced into a life of crime, selling the valuables of those poor people who’d been robbed and murdered. With my mother’s good looks, breeding and class, it was easy for her to blend into society posing as a wealthy woman whose family had fallen upon hard times. Over and over she went to town and returned to the cave with a bag of money and supplies. In return, I would be placed in her arms.

Don’t you see – your parents kept me hostage and made my mother do their bidding? What else could she do? She was without family and friends; she did what she had to do to keep me alive and protect me.

We were born just a few months apart and did well in the beginning. Then, the first winter was brutal. Thick snow on the ground for weeks at a time and even the Firth froze over in places. It upset Sawney to see our mothers without food because they could not produce milk. We screamed day and night until Sawney could stand it no longer.

He returned later in the day with a man he had robbed. He used his belt to strap the man’s hands together and then led him down the cliff, and into the cave. My mother never knew the man’s name but suspected he was Sawney’s third victim.

My mother broke down in tears as she recalled that dreadful day. The poor man lay dead in the corner for over two days before they plucked up the courage to use his body. Our mothers were near to death themselves, but it was Agnes who encouraged Sawney to do what he had to do. He sliced the body and cooked the meat over the open fire. My mother was sickened and disgusted, but in the end when she supposed I might die, she too succumbed to devouring the meat that was given her. That’s how it all began and it’s never been anything different.

A few weeks later, just by happenchance, a man was walking ahead of his family. Your father saw the opportunity and sprang out from behind the bushes, pistol in hand. He did not see the man’s sons who dawdled behind, and they pounced on him. It didn’t take long to discover the man and his family was running from the magistrate, and needed a place to hide. They came to live with us and the two men and their families formed a close and strong relationship, both being on the wrong side of the law.”

“The Tully family,” whispered Robert conspiratorially.

“Yes,” responded Alice. “Edward Tully, his wife, sons and daughters. Tully seemed to be equally as wicked. The cave seemed to bring out the worse out in them and allowed them to do the most debauched acts imaginable even with members of their own family. Their behavior became commonplace and the children that sprang from their loins would be no different to their despicable parents.”

Robert became thoughtful, puffed his cheeks out and looked around. He did not say a word.

“Look at us Robert – and look around you. Do you not see the difference? We know who our parents are.

God only knows who sired our half brothers and sisters. I cannot tell you who was the father of my baby – there were simply too many…” her voice trailed away and became even softer, “I just thank God he was not born into this den of vile creatures. Brother sleeps with sister, father with daughter and from so few, we now number twenty-five wicked souls. I cannot bear it. I will not bear it!”

Robert eyed the group cautiously as he watched Alice’s face in the firelight. “But what would you do Alice? Where would you go?”

Alice wiped her eyes and raised her chin in the air. It was a sign of defiance and determination that Robert had seen on few occasions over the years, and it scared him now.

“My mother told me I had a half sister and where I could find her,” she whispered. “I intend to do just that.”

Chapter 35

The following morning Agnes grabbed Alice roughly by the arm. “Well, at least you’ve stopped that bloody crying. You’ve driven me mad sniveling all night and day.

Now lassie, pull yourself together; you’ve got work to do. Go over there and chose a decent dress to wear, you’re going into town.”

Alice moved towards the pile of clothing against the wall and began working her way through the mountain of clothes. An unpleasant odor wafted up; the mixture of sweat, urine and other bodily smells made her nauseous. Soon she found a dark blue woolen dress with silver trim and buttons. She vaguely remembered the woman who had worn the dress, and she shuddered with the thought.

Pushing the memory from her mind, she instead concentrated on her mother. Hadn’t she gone through these very clothes and done exactly the same thing? The thought she could end up the same way terrified her as she pushed and pulled her body into the dress and draped a cloak over her body.

“You’re taking you damn time,” screamed Agnes. “You’ll need to be back before the tide turns, so you’d better get going.” Turning her attention to her son she warned, “Robert, watch this little madam like a hawk. She’s her mother’s daughter all right, thinks she’s better than the rest of us. Beat her if you need to…but only after she’s done the deal. Don’t delay anywhere in town, do you hear me? No drinking in the tavern. We’ll all be waiting.”

Alice remembered her mother’s last words.

She had made a promise and fully meant to keep it. She placed the tortoiseshell combs in her hair, a recent gift from her beloved mother and smiled to herself. Next she placed the Bible in a small, drawstring bag and hung it over her wrist.

Looking at Robert she said, “I’m ready now.”

Agnes mimicked Alice, “I’m ready now, like she was the bleeding queen or something,” she turned towards the clan laughing loudly, “Who does she think she is eh?

Perhaps she thinks she’s going to a ball?”

The group joined Agnes and screamed in delight, their laughter echoed in the cave.

Stepping onto the wet pebbled beach, Alice brought her hand up to shield her eyes from the bright sunlight. Squinting, she looked up and down the beach. It looked different somehow in the early morning light. Washed clean by the sea, it looked fresh despite the strong, pungent smell of seaweed. Crabs and small fish had taken refuge in the tide pools as gulls swooped down for an easy meal.

“What are you staring at?” Robert sounded annoyed.

“You know I’ve only been out at night to collect driftwood. It looks and smells wonderful.”

“By the sounds of it, you’d better get used to it. When my father makes his mind up about something...there’s no changing it. I only hope you’re as good as your mother. Now get a move on, we don’t have a lot of time.”

Robert grabbed Alice’s hand and half pulled, half dragged her up the cliff face. At the top, they stood for a moment collecting their breath. Overlooking the sea, Alice was moved by the sight.

“It’s so beautiful.”

“Your mother said the same thing when she stood there. I only took her into town once, but I remember she liked the view too. Tully took her the last time. I think he gave her a beating because she wasn’t fast enough.”

The sudden realization that Robert had actively participated in the control of her mother brought Catherine to her senses, and she saw him in his true light. She shuddered and pulled the cloak about her shoulders. She did not know if this was the day she would make her move, but if the opportunity presented itself…the thought excited her. She was not aware Robert was talking. “We can walk but it’ll take longer. Sometimes, a coach comes along. If it does, then we’ll get a ride. You’re my sister all right. We’re going to town to

see a relative. Don’t mention any names, let me do the talking.�

She was suddenly sad. If she did make her escape this day, Robert would get a beating. Then she remembered how he must have coerced her mother and bile rose in her throat. No, she thought to herself, I will not allow anything or anybody to stop me. They walked for half an hour before they heard a coach approaching.

“We’re in luck Alice. Remember what I said.

You keep your mouth shut.”

“Hey to the pair of lovebirds ahead – are you interested in joining us for part of your journey?” called the coach driver.

Robert turned and looked up. “We are brother and sister kind sir. But thank you for stopping. We would gladly accept your offer.” He said fishing in his pockets for some pennies.

They climbed aboard the coach to find just one other traveler sitting opposite them.

The man smiled and introduced himself.

Touching his hat he said, “John Dunn – pleased to make your acquaintance. What takes you into town today?” he said pleasantly.

“We’re going into town to see some aging relatives,” offered Robert and reached across the coach to shake the man’s hand.

“You and your sister I heard you say.”

Alice looked up and concentrated on the man’s face. It was a kind face, not handsome, but agreeable in its own way. Their eyes met and she held his gaze. She caught him looking at her bosom. When he saw she had noticed, he blushed and ran a finger around the inside of his collar as if to loosen it.

At first, Alice did not understand why the color rose to his cheeks. She allowed her eyes to fall to his crotch and the bulge that grew there. The man reached for his hat and placed it on his lap. Alice smiled seductively and the man blushed to his scalp. For the first time in her life, Alice realized the effect she had over a man and she chuckled inwardly. This was something she could use – something of value.

She continued to make eye contact with the

man opposite and in the end, he smiled openly in return.

Robert clutched Alice’s hand protectively and squeezed it painfully.

“What about you sir, do you have business in town?”

“Yes, I have some legal matters to attend to that should take me a few days. I will be staying at The Cross Keys Inn,” he said pointedly.

No more was said. Robert still clutched Alice’s hand spitefully and fidgeted his feet anxiously. The man’s attention flitted between looking out of the carriage at the scenery and Alice’s bosom. He tried again to engage in conversation, but Robert had had enough of the useless chatter and refused to converse in any way.

Chapter 36

The coach came to a halt in the High Street of Ballantrae. Dunn was the first to stand, “I wish you and your sister a safe and happy visit,” he said as he pulled his belongings together.

“Likewise,” said Robert tartly as they climbed down the steps of the carriage.

“If you should find yourself with a few minutes’ spare, perhaps you will allow me to buy you a drink at The Cross Keys Inn.” “Thank you, but we’ll not have time,” said Robert as he pulled Alice away from the coach.

“Pity,” was all the man muttered and he watched the couple walk away.

As soon as they were a few paces away from the coach, Robert squeezed Alice’s arm and spat, “You little cow! I saw what you were doing fluttering your eyelashes at that bloke. What do you think you’re playing at?”

This was a side of Robert Alice had never seen before, and it frightened her. They had grown up together, been intimate since they were young children; he was the closest thing to a friend in the world. He was behaving more like his father, displaying a jealous and mean streak. She looked down at his white knuckles as they gripped her arm spitefully. In some strange way, his hateful actions spurred her on as she considered her plan.

They rounded Philpot Lane and Robert pointed to a pawn shop in the middle of the High Street.

“That’s Murdoch’s shop over there – see it, the place with the three golden balls hanging over the door. You don’t need to say who you are or where you came from. Just show him the watch and he’ll make an offer. Sawney said you’re not to

accept anything less than five guineas, but I expect he’d take less. Just make it quick Alice, do you understand? Sawney will make us pay if we don’t come back in time with everything he wants. Get the money now, be a good girl! Do as you’re told, and then we’ll get the supplies and be on our way.”

How many times had she heard that phrase in her life? “Be a good girl, be quiet and do as you’re told.” Yes, she was going to be good all right, but only on her terms from now on.

Alice pushed the door open and the jingling of a bell made her jump. A rotund little man appeared from the back of the shop dressed in a stained yellow tartan waistcoat; his black breeches were pulled tight across his middle and thighs and the fabric was shiny with grease. He wore little round, wire glasses that made his eyes seem much larger than there were. He eyed her curiously. “What can I do for you, young lady?”

She cleared her throat and answered in a very strong Scottish brogue. “I have a very fine watch here to sell you. Are you interested?”

“I’m always interested in looking dear girl. It depends on the merchandize whether or not I make an offer.”

Murdoch looked on with interest as Alice took the watch from her bosom and placed it on the counter. Agnes had wrapped it in a silk handkerchief and now Murdoch cautiously unfolded the fabric. His heart skipped a beat. What a beautiful pocket watch. Something of this quality rarely came into his shop, perhaps once or twice in a lifetime. He had to have it. He took note of the young woman who stood across the counter. She was dressed nicely enough in a fine brocade dress and warm cloak, but there was something not quite right about her. She was very agitated and extremely nervous, her eyes darting this way and that. Oh well, it was worth a try. Nothing ventured – nothing gained.

“I can give you five guineas for the watch and a little something extra for yourself,” he said with a wink, “if you’ll come upstairs that is.” He laid the five guineas seductively on the counter. Most times it worked a treat, nothing like the temptation of gold coins at the ready to seal the bargain. But instead, she almost threw the watch at Murdoch, scooped up the money and ran from the shop.

“Well I never,” shouted Murdoch. “I suppose I’ll see you another time,” he called from behind the counter, but Alice did not hear him. She was about to put her plan into effect as she bolted from the shop.

The door burst open as Alice flung it aside, the bell ringing loudly. She turned to her left quickly and bumped into a vendor selling roasted chestnuts. He in turn stumbled backwards spilling his load across the High Street, hot coals rolling in every direction. She screamed and tried to step over them feeling the heat sear the bottom of her dress, but still she kept going caught up in the excitement of her escape. One more turn and then another she thought as she wove her way through the town streets.

Robert had not been looking at the pawnbroker’s shop. He had not expected to see Alice for several minutes. After all, this was her first transaction and it would surely take some time. It was the yell from the chestnut vendor that brought him back to his senses. One moment he heard the man yelling, “All ‘ot and delicious – ten a penny,” and the next minute he was cursing up a storm and looking down the street.

Alice was on the run! How had it happened?

He knew he should not have let his attention be swayed by the pretty local lass with the yellow ringlets hanging down her back. He had watched her go into the baker’s shop and she had looked over at him and smiled. His attention had been momentarily distracted, and Alice had made her move. I’ll be able to catch her he thought and took off at a sprint. She was several seconds ahead of him now but he felt he could catch her easily; he was bigger and stronger after all. But, as soon as he began to run, he tripped over his hob nailed boots that were at least two sizes larger than his feet. Embarrassed by the laughter of the people in the crowd who had gathered to watch the spectacle, he took his boots off, tied the laces together and hung them around before sprinting after Alice in his bare feet.

Alice on the other hand was not hindered in the least and ran with the agility of her age. She felt as though she were flying. She was so happy, she wondered if her heart would burst from her chest with happiness. First one street then another – she ran faster and faster putting more and more

distance between herself and Robert. No longer could she hear the noise and hubbub of the High Street and so stopped for a moment to take a deep breath. Turning down an alleyway, she saw the parish church of Ballantrae standing majestically in the center of a cross street. She ran towards it pushing the door open with both hands.

Panting, she walked into the dark quiet church and sank to her knees in thanks. She had never been in a church. It was dark and quiet inside and Alice felt safe at last.

She sank to her knees in thanks and could hardly believe her luck. She had done it – she had escaped the cave. Now what to do? Getting away from Robert was one thing, making her way to England was something completely different. She had not anticipated it would have been easy to escape from Robert but she had done it. One step at a time she thought. She had five guineas to spend but she must not attract too much attention. Looking down at her damaged dress, she could see the coals had burned completely through in places but she hardly cared. Half crying and half laughing she said aloud, “I can’t believe it Mother. How could I be so lucky?”

Suddenly, a door opened by the sanctuary and a priest walked towards her.

“What’s wrong my child? What’s wrong?”

His voice was soothing and comforting.

“A man…A man was chasing me,” gasped Alice. “I came to you.”

“A wise decision, my dear,” responded the priest. “Do you know this man?”

“I think I’ve seen him before,” she lied. “He tried to grab me and I ran and ran. I’m scared he will follow me here.”

“Well if he does, he will have to deal with me.

You may stay here for as long as you wish. This is God’s house and He welcomes you.” The priest eyed Alice. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before. Are you new in town?”

“Yes,” answered Alice truthfully, “and I am supposed to meet my friend at The Cross Keys Inn. Could you please tell me where I may find it?”

“You are so close my child, in fact just two streets away. When you leave the church, turn right and then right again at Chancery Lane, but may I suggest you sit here for a little while to collect your breath and hopefully your pursuer will have lost interest in you.”

“Perhaps I will,” responded Alice, “and thank you Father.”

Alice waited for almost an hour and took the time to look around the beautiful church. A ray of sunlight caught one of the stained glass windows and it spread shards of brilliant colors around the church. Her mother had told her about a church in Essex where she had often sought solace.

What was the name of the church? She could not remember, but she knew it was in Hadleigh and the thought that she may soon sit in that church filled her with such excitement, she could barely contain herself.

Chapter 37

The sun had gone down leaving streaks of dark shadows across the street. Alice made her way to the Crossed Keys Inn and gently pushed the door open. Inside, it was noisy and the smoke was so dense, her eyes watered immediately. She felt the need to bolt, but where would she go? While in the church, she had decided on a plan of action and now that she had to put it in effect, she lacked the confidence. What if the man in the coach was not here? And if he was, what if he ignored her – laughed at her? She looked down at her soiled and burned dress. I must look a sight she thought. He had seemed such a kind man and she knew the effect she had on him, but perhaps she had read too much into it. She turned to leave as the innkeeper approached her cautiously, eying her up and down. “What can we do for you?”

She scanned the inn. “I was looking for someone. I was supposed to meet him here. I must be too late,” she grabbed the door handle.

“Is that so,” replied the innkeeper.

Alice did not have to say another word for behind the innkeeper stood John Dunn. “I’m so glad you could join me,” he said pleasantly. “Please come and take a seat.”

Alice swallowed hard as she looked at the innkeeper, tilted her chin slightly upwards. “Excuse me,” she said as she pushed her hair back from her forehead.

They sat down together in a booth close to the fire and John was the first to speak.

“Where’s your brother? I had hoped you would both come for supper, I never expected you would come alone? Not that I mind you understand, I’m pleased,” he

said with a smile.

Alice was not sure how much to share with this stranger. She could not and would not tell him the whole truth, but had to say enough to get him to help her. She decided on telling him something between the truth and a lie.

Her brother wanted her to marry a man she did not love. He was controlling and could be vicious if he did not get his way, she told John miserably.

“I saw how uncomfortable you were in the carriage, but I didn’t know what to say to you. It was none of my business. But now you’ve come here to me. How can I help you?”

Alice could not believe her luck. First the relatively easy escape and now this man was kind enough to offer his help.

“I don’t know what to say except that I accept your kind offer of help. I have family in England but I understand it will be a long and difficult journey. I have a little money and can pay my own way, but if I could accompany you as far as your business takes you…why I would be most grateful.”

“Well first things first. Let’s have something to eat and drink and then, with your permission I will get the innkeeper to escort you to my room. You will be safe there for the time being, and you can rest. Surely your brother will not look for you here. I still have some business to attend to but I’ll only be gone for an hour or so. When I return, we will make some plans.” He watched her face carefully and thought he saw some discomfort. “Please do not fret, I will not ask to share your bed. You will have no fear of me in that regard,” he said as he held Alice’s hand. “Come now, let me tell the innkeeper you will be staying and then I need to get about my business. I’ll be back before you know it.”

The innkeeper climbed the steps ahead of Alice. “Where’s your luggage?”

“I don’t have it with me but a relative will be bringing it soon.”

“Right – I understand perfectly,” said the innkeeper with a smirk as he walked over to the window and opened it a crack. “The air gets a little stale in her sometimes, this’ll help. I’ll light a fire for you.

Alice bounced up and down on the bed and watched as the man prepare and light the fire. Such luxury! So this is what it’s like in the outside world. Mother was right; she was always right about everything. Alice knew she could easily get used to this lifestyle and would do anything, literally anything to get it.

The innkeeper smiled as he left the room and Alice threw herself backwards on the bed enjoying the comfort. “If John thinks he will be sleeping in a chair tonight, he is sorely mistaken,” she said to herself. “I will please him like he has never been pleased in his life and make sure he takes me as far away from this place as possible. I will find my sister and I will be happy.”

With each step, Robert knew he had lost her.

At one point, he thought he saw the hem of her blue dress disappear around a corner, but when he got there, she was nowhere to be seen. His chest hurt, his head hurt and more than anything else, his feet were killing him. He had blisters upon blisters. “These damn boots,” he said aloud. “If it hadn’t been for these damn boots, I would have caught her.”

Dejected, he walked around the town for what seemed to be hours until the full reality and seriousness of the situation weighed heavily in his mind. He had failed his father and the clan, and knew there would be severe consequences.

He shivered with the thought and seriously considered not returning to the cave. He knew he would get a beating, but he’d had those all his life. In fact, they happened so frequently they hardly bothered him anymore, but this time it would different. He had been given the responsibility of watching over Alice and he had failed.

He turned onto Chancery Lane and came upon an inn and looked through the window at the warm, inviting scene inside. Although he could neither read nor write, the sign over the door showed two crossed keys and he remembered the man in the coach said he would be staying at the Cross Keys Inn. Perhaps he could meet up with him and cadge a few drinks. On impulse, he pushed the door open and entered. He only had a few pennies left and since he knew he was going to get a beating anyway, he might just as well use the money and enjoy himself. Anyhow, there was no point in leaving now because the road would be too dark to travel and besides, the tide would have turned closing the entrance to the cave off until morning. No, he would enjoy a tankard or two, spend the night in town and leave first thing in the morning.

Who knows, he might just come across Alice. “If I do, I’ll give her such a bloody clout, it will knock her off her feet,” he

said aloud.

Walking up to the bar Robert said importantly, “I’ll have a pint of your best ale.”

“As you wish,” responded the innkeeper and served the insolent young man.

Robert supped his ale and watched the door.

To his surprise, the man from the carriage appeared with his paperwork tied with a red ribbon. He walked up to him.

“Hello, remember me.” He said too loudly, “I thought I’d take you up on your invitation.”

Overcoming his initial surprise the man said, “Why yes, you and your sister were in the coach this very morning. John Dunn at your pleasure and you are…Robert, am I correct?” Quickly collecting his composure he went on, “I’m so glad you came, but where is your sister?”

“Oh, we had a silly argument and she ran off. I expect she will catch up with me soon. Anyway, I’m here.”

John ordered some food and ale and excused himself. “I need to deposit this paperwork safely upstairs,” said Dunn.

“Don’t mind me,” responded Robert. “Take your time, I’m not going anywhere.”

Dunn literally ran up the stairs two at a time and banged on his bedroom door. A very sleepy Alice answered and opened the door a crack.

“Do not under any circumstances come downstairs,” Dunn ordered. “Your brother has arrived.”

“Oh dear God help me,” she whispered.

“Do not fret, I’ll keep him occupied and plied with ale and then get rid of him. But do not, under any circumstances leave this room. I will come back as soon as the coast is clear. I will take care of you Alice, trust me.” He handed her his papers, “Put these on the table over there,” and he turned and ran back downstairs.

He stood in the doorway watching Robert before returning to his place at the table. He saw that Robert had taken full advantage of the ale and food, stuffing it into his mouth with his bare hands. It was a disgusting sight, and it baffled him momentarily. How could brother and sister behave so differently? He ordered another tankard of ale for his guest but drank little himself as he watched his guest

carefully.

After more than an hour Robert stood up.

“Well, I’d better get going. This inn’s a little too pricey for the likes of me. I’ve been speaking to the landlord and he suggested I go over to The Nag’s Head Inn on Drury Lane for the night. He said I’d be comfortable there. But, if you should see my sister, will you tell her where she can find me?”

“I will indeed,” said John as he walked his guest to the door. “Have a good night my friend and safe journey home.”

“I’m so glad I came,” responded Robert “I’ve had a wonderful evening, and you’re such good company,” and he staggered off into the night.

Chapter 38

Alice watched from the tiny window in the room. She rubbed the condensation from the window pane and saw Robert leave the inn. He was obviously drunk because he staggered from one side of the street to the other using the walls to keep himself upright. He was barefoot and carried his boots over his shoulder. She smiled as she watched him weave around groups of people in the street. He called out something to a woman who was also the worse for drink and she allowed Robert to put his arm around her waist.

“Don’t,” whispered Alice. “If you only knew...you’d run for your life.”

The pounding on the door dragged Alice away from the window. John had arrived breathless at his bedroom door. “It’s me Alice, and I’m alone.”

She pulled the door open and stepped back.

John audibly gasped. First he looked at her face and then his eyes fell towards her breasts, “You, you look so... different.”

Alice had wrapped a sheet around her body.

The soiled and damaged dress and undergarments lay in the corner of the room. She had washed her body and used her combs on her long, black shiny hair. It hung seductively over her bare white shoulders, little corkscrew curls framing her white face.

He stepped into the room and Alice stepped backwards smiling. She looked towards his groin, knowing what she would see there. She was not disappointed. They’re all the same she thought. Inside or outside the cave, they were all the same.

He whispered hoarsely, “You don’t have to do this you know. I said I would help you, I don’t want anything in return.”

“I understand, but I want to,� she turned slowly to the bed and allowed the sheet drop to the floor. She heard him gasp.

The following morning, Alice could feel her lover’s hot breath on the back of her neck. She wriggled away slightly so as not to disturb his sleep, and then rolled over to face him. A little smile had appeared on his face. I wonder what he’s dreaming about thought Alice, perhaps our lovemaking. She smiled too. It had been so intense, their bodies soaked in sweat as she teased and stroked him until he could bear it no longer. When she knew he was ready, she rolled onto her stomach, and allowed him to take her from behind.

She heard him gulp with excitement as his lust grew to fever pitch. He had never seen a woman behave in such a wanton way. He had nuzzled his face beside hers, “Dear God, help me,” he whispered huskily.

He had fallen asleep almost immediately.

Alice lay in the darkness listening to his steady breathing. She knew she had thrilled him last night and taken him to places he had never dreamed. But they were so different, and she wondered how she could keep such a man. He was an educated man, a man of substance and most likely well respected in his home town. If she could only hold onto him for a short while – she would have it made.

A nagging thought kept rumbled around in her head. She could not control it. She kept coming back to it over and over until she finally understood. Dare she admit it? Yes, she had enjoyed last night. Had enjoyed the passion, had enjoyed the tenderness. He was a kind man who tenderly kissed and stroked her and she wanted him as much as he wanted her. She wrapped her legs around his back when he entered her, murmuring little gasps of pleasure and approval to please him. He in turn had responded by mounting her several times throughout the night. Perhaps I can live and be loved in the outside world, she thought. Her mother had trained her well, prepared her in many ways, but not in the ways of the heart. I wish I could talk to you now, she thought.

You could tell me what to do.

Alice slid from the bed and walked over to the fireplace. The fire was almost out, but some embers still glowed. Using a poker, she prodded and stirred the fire into life as she placed a log in the hearth. She was unaware that

John was awake. “I’ve never known a woman like you Alice.

Stay with me, and I’ll take care of you.”

“We’ve only just met. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“You make me happy – that’s all I need to know.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“I don’t need to know – you make me happy and that’s all I care about. But before we do anything else, we must make sure you’re safe. You should wait here in the room until lunchtime to be sure Robert has left town. When I’ve finished my business, I will make reservations for York and you will come with me. Does that suit you?”

“I – I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know where you live. Is it very far away?”

“No, it is only a three day coach ride from here. York is a big town. Have you ever been there?

“Good gracious me no, I have never been farther than my own little town.”

“Well, we’re about to change all that, but first I must clear up some business. I’ll return soon my sweet.”

He kissed her gently on the mouth as she closed the door behind him.

He has used the term ‘my sweet’ – and it surprised and delighted her. Was it possible for someone to fall in love so quickly? She did not think so. And what did she feel for him – anything, anything at all? Yes, there was a spark there that could be useful in the coming weeks...of that she was sure.

“So far, so good,” she said aloud. She was both excited and scared at the same time about the journey to York. Sitting on the bed, she opened her drawstring bag. Her five guineas were wrapped in paper, and she put them to one side. Lifting the Bible from her bag, she turned the pages until she came to the lock of hair. “I escaped mother, I did exactly as you wanted.”

There was a knock at the door. Alarm bells rang in her head and her heart beat so violently, she thought she would faint. She did not answer until she heard the voice of a woman.

The innkeeper’s wife called out, “It’s Molly, the innkeeper’s wife here with some food for you. Mr. Dunn s said you’d be hungry.” Alice opened the door just a crack to see a very tall, stout lady standing with a tray of food in her hands.

“Please, please come in,” said Alice.

The woman entered and looked at the bed.

“We didn’t know Mr. Dun was married. He always stays with us when he comes into town, but he never said he was married until this very morning.” She put the tray on the table.

Alice remained quiet.

“I see you’ve had a little accident dear,” said Molly as she eyed Alice’s dress, “Oh my, that’s in a sorry mess, I must say. I’ll tell you what; someone left a dress behind months ago. It wouldn’t fit my body, but it just might fit you. Would you like to try it? There’s no cost – Mr. Dunn is a good customer of ours. We’re only too pleased to oblige.”

She returned some minutes later with a simple black taffeta dress that buttoned at the neck and wrists. Alice held it up to her body. “I think it will fit me perfectly. Thank you so much for your kindness.”

“Think nothing of it my dear. Only too pleased to help. Where are you off to today? Are you both off to York today? If you are, remember the coach leaves around midday. The coachman is a mean old coot, and doesn’t wait for anybody. Safe journey dear,” and with that, she was gone.

Alice cleaned her body and struggled into the new dress. Combing her hair, she wrapped it around her head, secured it in place with the combs and waited for her lover.

Chapter 39

She waited all day and began to get worried.

What if he did not return for her? Had it all been an act? Just when Alice was about to give up and leave, John burst through the door.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re still here,” he mumbled into her neck. “I had one appointment after another and before I knew it, the sun was going down. I raced all the way here.”

It was another steamy, lustful night and, not wishing to hurry themselves, they stayed in bed all morning.

John lay on his stomach as Alice ran her hands over his body.”

“Where did you learn all that?”

“Learn all what?”

“You know what I’m talking about – the way you behave in bed. You’re so young to know these things.”

“Are you complaining?”

“No, it’s just something I’ve been meaning to ask you. By the way, you haven’t said much about your family. I met Robert of course but what of the rest of them.

Do you have a large family? Are your parents still alive?”

Alice stopped stroking and pulled the blanket to her chin, “All you need to worry about is me – aren’t I enough for you?”

“Well, yes of course you are...but my parents will still want to know about your family. My father in particular will ask you. Is your father a farmer? Is he in trade?

What do they do? I’d like to know too. I’m curious.”

She was angry with him. “Now you’ve spoiled the whole morning. We were having a pleasant time until you kept on and on asking one question after the other. In any

event, I thought we had to catch the noon coach to Castle Douglas.�

“Oh my goodness, yes, come on Alice we’ll never make it if we don’t hurry.”

Two hours later, the carriage stopped at The Wild Boar Inn at Castle Douglas. The coachman quickly climbed down and placed a stool at the door of the carriage.

“We’ll stay here for one hour, one hour mind you, and then we’ll be on our way. If you’re not standing right here, I’ll have to leave you behind.”

John Dunn, Alice and two weary travelers stretched and groaned as they entered the inn. “Why don’t you join us?” said John to the two men.

“Don’t mind if I do,” answered one man. “It would be good to have some company.” They took a booth by the window.

The landlord walked up with a jolly look on his face. “What can I bring you gentlemen and lady, some bread and cheese, some ale?”

“That would be splendid,” said John rolling his shoulders and settling back in the seat. Several times he looked across the table at Alice. He had been particularly thoughtful and quiet for some reason. She smiled at him, but he did not return the smile. Something was terribly wrong, she could tell by his eyes. I’ll put a smile on his face later, she thought.

The landlord arrived with the food, ale and plates, but Alice did not wait. She reached across the table, grabbed some meat with her hand and began stuffing it into her mouth. Grease ran from her mouth to her chin, and she absentmindedly wiped it with her open hand and she continued to stuff food into her mouth. She hunched over her food, her mouth open, spitting food as she spoke.

“There’s no need to hurry; we have plenty of time Alice,” said John.

Alice ignored him, oblivious to the stares of their companions and John’s well meaning comments. Instead she gulped her ale, and belched. It was too much for John, who stood quickly knocking his tankard over. “Excuse me gentlemen. I have to take care of matter,” and rushed towards the door.

Half an hour later, the coachman stood tapping his whip against his leg. “I told everyone to be back here in one hour,” he said, “One hour mind you, and where is your friend, nowhere to be seen. We’ll give him a few minutes more, and then we’ll be on our way.”

“But you can’t leave without him,” Alice begged.

“I told him I have a schedule to keep. I have to think about the other passengers that I need to pick up on route. I’ll make no exceptions.”

The other two passengers dared not look at Alice. Instead, they looked out the windows with embarrassment and waited.

The coachman continued his vigil looking up and down the street. Finally, he climbed the steps of his carriage. “Just a minute. Your friend’s bag is missing. He must have climbed up while my back was turned. I wouldn’t mind betting he remembered he had some last minute business here in town. What do you want to do missy. Do you want to stay here or continue to York? Your fare’s paid.”

Alice knew in that instant she had been deserted. But what had she done wrong? She looked about fearfully.

“Make you mind up – stay or leave. It’s up to you, but I need a decision quickly,” said the coachman.

Back in the carriage, Alice closed her eyes and pretended to sleep. What had she done wrong? She remembered John had been pensive and deep in thought after asking about her family. That must be it. Oh mother, you tried to prepare me for life outside, but there’s so much I don’t know. I wish you were here to help me, she thought.

As soon as the two men fell asleep, Alice allowed the tears to flow. She wiped them away quickly, and thought only of the man who had shown her any affection.

For the first time in her life, she had enjoyed being with a man. He was a kind and considerate lover, and she missed him already. But the hurt soon turned to anger, as she stared out the window. Damn him! She thought.

Clutching her drawstring bag in her lap, she decided to watch and learn how other people behaved, and then she would be better prepared. The coach sped past one village after another rocking back and forth on the uneven ground. Alice was fascinated by the white cottages with slate roofs and stone walls. There were flowers everywhere – in pots, at the windowsills, creeping green vines that climbed the

walls. There was color and beauty everywhere she looked and she pushed her face to the window to take in as much as possible.

The gentle rocking lulled Alice to sleep. Her chin fell to her chest, and she dreamed of being chased down dark, cold corridors. Except it was not her, but someone else.

It was someone with red hair who was rushing headlong into the darkness towards a closed door. The woman screamed and clawed at the door, a blood curdling shriek that echoed in Alice’s head.

She awoke with a start. The two passengers were collecting their bags from the overhead rack looking down at her. Had she screamed out in her sleep? The dream had seemed so real. While she had been asleep, she had gripped her dress with her greasy hands. They had left dark streaks on her black, taffeta dress. Looking down at her long, broken nails, thick with grease and grim, she was embarrassed. Keeping her eyes downcast, she folded her hands in her lap and waited until the men left the carriage.

“I can’t tell you everything Alice, but if you watch and listen, you’ll learn how to behave,” her mother had said over and over again. Finally, Alice understood what she meant. She must learn how to behave in the outside world.

She stood up, unsteady on her feet and swayed a little. What was wrong? Was she simply tired or was something else going on?

Chapter 40

Allan Murdoch turned the pocket watch over and over in his fat, grubby little hands. It was a quality piece and he was thrilled that it had come his way. Such fine workmanship. He fitted his watchmaker’s loupe to his good eye and appraised the merchandize. Eighteen carat gold, no less, and looked like it had been made in France. The filigree around the bezel was handsomely crafted; it must be worth a fortune. He noted the engraving on the back: Glen MacPherson. “Well it was his property once upon a time, but now it belongs to me,” he said aloud.

The owner of the pawn shop wondered how the watch had come into the hands of the dark haired beauty that visited his shop. It was the first time he had set his eyes on her. He noticed she was particularly jittery, her dark eyes darted back and forth as she demanded a princely sum for the watch, a sum he said he would not pay unless she agreed to accompany him upstairs. But she had refused him, and agreed to a lesser amount instead. After the deal was struck, she snatched the gold coins from the counter, dropped them into a pouch, shoved it down her bosom and took off like a frightened jackrabbit.

He was not concerned; he knew she would be back and he would try again. They usually gave in when he offered them a little trinket: “something pretty for a pretty woman” was his usual patter, and they usually fell for it and ended up in his bed. But this one was different, he could tell.

She was more standoffish than the others who came to his shop over the years. She was a little overweight for his liking, but that had never stopped him before.

He suspected the merchandize that was brought to his shop was stolen, but his policy was never to ask

questions and he recited his motto: “Ask no questions – get told no lies,” and besides, the less he knew the better. That way, if the town constable came snooping around, he could deny everything.

Some of the people who brought goods to sell were women whom he suspected were part of a ruffian gang operating in a neighboring village or town. They came in furtively looking over their shoulders with some piece of jewelry wrapped in a cloth that was usually stuffed in their bosom. They tried to pretend it was a personal, family heirloom they needed to sell because they’d fallen on hard times, but the goods were usually of better quality than the shabbily dressed women. Oh, they tried to look the part, dressed in their fine taffeta or silk dresses, but when he looked more closely, the dresses were in poor condition with holes under the arms and buttons missing. Even on cold days, they wore old moth eaten shawls draped over their shoulders instead of a fine, warm woolen cloak. No, he couldn’t be fooled – not Allan Murdoch.

Over the years, many, women had been through his shop, but Murdoch had to admit, his favorite was the woman with the red hair. She had it all. She was well spoken, had class and poise and he was fascinated by her. On her first visit to his shop, he watched her ample milky-white breasts rise and fall in the dress that was too tight by far for her body. As she turned, he could see the laces on the back of the bodice were stretched to the maximum. He tried to get her upstairs by offering a better bargain, but she seemed genuinely upset by his advances. In fact, during the bargaining process she had burst into tears and almost fled from his shop before they had struck a deal. He remembered that she blew her nose after they agreed on a price, and almost absentmindedly said, “I don’t know, what he will say?”

Murdoch wondered who the man in this beautiful woman’s life was; did he know him? When she left his shop, Murdoch decided to follow her. His curiosity piqued, he locked the shop and raced after the woman. Perhaps she would meet up with the man in her life just around the next corner.

But she was surprisingly agile. He barely caught sight of her skirts as she rounded each corner. After several minutes of trying to keep up with her and following her through the streets of Ballantrae, he felt as though his heart would burst from his chest. Puffing and panting from the exertion, he mopped his brow and leaned against a shop

window to get his breath.

It was no use, he could not catch her and the afternoon was drawing in. Despondent, Murdoch decided to return to his shop. The woman fascinated him and he made a pledge that he would try to coax her another day. But that day came and she deftly put him in his place once more. He decided their business relationship was more important to him than a roll in the sheets, and although she visited him regularly over the years and her appearance had changed, she was still the most desirable woman he had ever known.

He thought back to the last time she had come into his shop a month ago. She had brought in a very nice sapphire ring to sell and they struck a deal quickly. He recalled his red haired beauty seemed distracted and quiet.

Although she had never been overly friendly, he thought she lacked the spirit he had seen previously seen, and he wanted to do something to make her happy. He wanted to see her smile.

Murdoch was not known for his generosity, in fact, his business was scorned by many who said he took advantage of those poor souls who were down on their luck.

Why he felt sorry for this woman he could not say, but he reached under the counter and brought out a pair of small, tortoiseshell combs. “Here you are – something pretty for a pretty woman.”

She looked down at the combs and then back to Murdoch’s face. “It’s all right,” he said. “They’re for you.

No cost.”

She seemed to hesitate for a split second before scooping up the combs. “Thank you sir, you’re very kind,” and with that she rushed from the shop.

He had never seen his red haired beauty again and Murdoch was furious with himself for allowing his emotions to spill over to his business dealings. For years he had thought about her body. He imagined looking into those clear blue eyes as he enjoyed her body. He would pull her drawers down and expose the sweetness that lay between her legs. He would enjoy those large breasts and pink nipples he was sure he would find on such a fair beauty. Yes, every time he saw her he wanted her more, and could barely concentrate on business. He wondered if she noticed the bulge in his

trousers. Should would have to have been blind not to. He could not help it – the bloody thing had a mind of its own!

“No good crying over spilled milk,” Murdoch said aloud. Anyhow, he liked the young girls, they were always easier to deal with but the older women were usually more grateful for his attention and gave in more readily, but not so his beauty.

Today, the young black haired vixen appeared.

In many ways, she reminded him of the redhead, same long, swan like neck and pure white skin – but those eyes! They were as black as coal and had such fire in them. What a feisty little gem she was. Yes, he looked forward to her next visit and would be better prepared with a nice bauble to entice her.

They were all the same these little fillies; it was just a matter of time.

It had been a slow day except for the young girl and a couple of urchins who brought in silk handkerchiefs they had obviously pick pocketed from local gentry. Murdoch decided to call it a day, and locked the door before climbing the stairs to his rooms over the shop. It would have been better if he had some company to share his bed this evening, he thought. He entered the drab, dreary little bedroom and started a fire immediately. A fire always seemed to help his melancholy moods, and it did so this evening. He watched the kindling catch fire and then the logs spit and crackle. He was hungry and very thirsty after his day’s work. Taking a knife, he cut himself a chunk of bread and cheese, and poured himself a tankard of ale.

His mind turned to the day’s takings, particularly the watch. He took it from his inside pocket and once more turned it over in his hands. It had been a long time since anything of this quality had been brought to his shop.

Reaching into a drawer, he removed a black pigskin pouch and slid the watch inside. He would have to be very careful where he sold it. Glen MacPherson must be a very important man to own such a fine specimen. He wondered how the girl got her hands on the watch. Perhaps MacPherson had spent the night with her, and she had stolen it while he slept. “Well, it serves him bloody well right! He won’t be in a position to get it back,” muttered Murdoch. “Best not to sell it for a few months, let things settle down a bit. Then I’ll take a trip to Stranraer in the spring. I know just the man who will take it

and ask no questions. Yes, that’s a good plan.”

Chapter 41

Robert awoke the next morning with a raging headache. He could barely stand upright and when he did, he staggered and swayed back and forth and had to rush to the washbasin to empty his stomach. What had he drunk the night before? How many pints of ale? He vaguely remembered his drinking partner, what was his name now, John something or other. Yes, John Dunn. What good luck to come across the man? He had paid for an excellent meal and more ale than Robert could stomach, that was evident. He must have really enjoyed my company, thought Robert. Perhaps I should go by this morning and thank him for his hospitality. Then the thoughts of the previous day flooded over him, and he moaned aloud. Why would Alice do such a thing? After their previous conversation in the cave, he knew she was capable of it, but never dreamed she would have the guts to carry it out.

She knew nothing of the outside world. At least he had been in town a couple of times and knew some of the dangers. But Alice was alone, knew nobody and surely would not survive one night. The thought sent daggers through his head and he closed his eyes to quash the pain.

“He’ll kill me! Dad will kill me,” he said miserably and sank down onto the bed, his head in his hands.

He considered his options and knew there were only two available. He could run just as Alice had done, or he could face his father and the clan. Well, he had made a mistake and surely deserved to be forgiven – just this once. He would beg and plead forgiveness and thought his father would forgive him, but not his mother. She would be the problem because she hated Alice.

He reached into his pocket. No money except a couple of farthings, certainly not enough to catch the coach.

There was just no way around it...he would have to walk all the way to Bennane Head. Just the thought of putting his blistered feet inside his boots made him wince, but his mind was made up. He lumbered down the stairs, and then began the long walk to Bennane Head.

The closer he got to the cave, the more frightened he became and by the time he arrived at the top of the cliff, his legs were shaking with fear. Looking down, he could see the tide was far out, and therefore there was reason not to descend and face his father. Still, he hesitated putting off the inevitable and crouched down on his haunches. He was coming back empty handed, not only that but without Alice too. He tried to ready himself for the beating he knew would come.

It was now dusk and swarms of bats flew from the cave. Hundreds of thousands filled the sky fluttering off into the night to feed. It was a nightly ritual that always amazed Robert. He remembered being frightened as a young boy looking up into the sky and seeing the dark clouds of bats fleeing the cave. He wondered what it would be like to rise into the air and fly away.

There was no escape. He entered the cave and smelled the familiar odors he knew so well. There was the smell of bat droppings, always so fresh after they had gone on their nightly hunt, then the stench of cat urine and finally the rats, that scampered in the darkness. The odors greeted him and he suddenly felt at home as he walked towards the crevice. He squeezed through and found a fresh torch stuck in the wall. Lighting it, he began his long trek. He had never been as afraid as he was at this moment. His steps became shorter and his breath became more labored. He could hear and smell them before he saw the glow from the fire. The children rushed towards him yelling, “He’s here. He’s here!

Robert, did you bring everything?”

Sawney and the other men followed in the rear behind the children. “Where in the hell have you been? We waited all night and here you come swaggering along all casual like…” Sawney’s eyes moved behind Robert.

“Where’s Alice?”

Robert gulped, “I’m so sorry Father,” was all he could say and the whole clan knew what had happened without him saying another word.

“What did I tell you?” wailed Agnes. “I told you to watch that little bitch…I warned you.”

The blow sent Robert off his feet. He fell with a thud as his legs buckled under him. What scared him more than anything was the silence that followed! Sawney did not say a word and stormed off to a corner clenching and releasing his fists as he walked. He was not a big man but he could inflict much damage, as Robert had witnessed so many times. Now he did not know what to do to appease his father.

He ran after him and began to beg.

“Please father, please forgive me. She ran from the shop and I couldn’t catch her because my boots are too big. I kept falling over and I tried to keep up but she was too fast for me. What do you want me to say?” he wailed.

“Tell me, what can I do to make amends?”

Sawney crouched down wearily and put his head in his hands. He mumbled, “I fear this is the end of us Robert. Alice will tell the authorities and bring them back here,” he said miserably.

“But father, we’re safe here. If we can lay low for a few weeks, perhaps they won’t find us. Perhaps Alice will continue running and never tell a soul about us. I don’t think she will tell the authorities. No, she will never tell – I’m sure of it.”

Sawney looked up at his son. “And what will we do without her? Who will we send into town? Do you not see the pile of goods that needs to be sold? We need candles; I want my whiskey and tobacco. We need other things. Damn you Robert, I thought I could trust you to keep your side of the bargain. All you had to do was stay close to her. We’ll have to stay away from town for a few weeks, but they all need to be fed.” Sawney swept his arm around the cavern.”What am I to do about them?” He said miserably.

“Send me father. I can do it, and you’ll not have to worry about me running away.”

“Huh, I’m surprised you even came back.”

“You know I could never desert you father.”

Sawney reached forward and ruffled his son’s head. Something he had never done before. Robert felt guilty he had considered not returning to the cave. His father needed

him.

Smiling at his son, he said. “You’re a good boy. Perhaps in a week or so, we’ll have a proper talk about you going to town. Really, it makes better sense if you go on your own, and there’s less risk. Mind you, you’ll have to look the part.” He laughed loudly, “That cunning old bastard Murdoch won’t be able to cheat you, and he won’t ask you to share his bed,” he said with a chuckle, “but I doubt you’ll get as good a deal as the women.”

Robert laughed loudly too, glad his father was more relaxed now. He stared into the darkness. He was not sure Alice would keep her mouth shut, especially if the authorities caught up with her, but he did not share those worries with his father. Some things were better left unsaid.

Chapter 42

In another part of Ballantrae, the town crier, Malcolm Campbell, stepped onto an overturned apple box to elevate himself above the crowd that gathered around him.

His ample body, white leg of mutton whiskers and scarlet coat usually attracted a crowd, and they did so this morning.

Ringing his bell, he savored the moment as all attention turned his way. He unrolled the announcement, and in a booming voice began.

“It says here that the latest missing person, a Glen MacPherson, stopped for an early supper at the Lamb and Fleece inn and told the innkeeper he wanted to get back to Lendalfoot before dark. The innkeeper tried to encourage his guest to spend the night, but he would have none of it saying his wife of 20 years was at home and poorly, and he did not want to leave her another night.” Campbell frowned as he looked at the group. “The innkeeper advised MacPherson that it was not safe to travel alone, especially at dusk as so many travelers had gone missing. MacPherson was determined to leave, concerned about his wife’s health, and left soon after finishing his meal. Nothing has been heard from him since although his horse returned to Lendalfoot unharmed the following day. His family is very worried about his whereabouts.”

Campbell rolled up the announcement and looked about him. “I’m not happy at this new turn of events my friends. It seems MacPherson is just another in the long list of travelers who’ve disappeared over the years. This is not good. News will spread that this town is not safe, and all our businesses will suffer. Dozens of people have gone missing, and I for one have had enough.” His voice rose to a crescendo, his face flushed red with anger. “It’s a disgrace to

Galloway, and I for one will put up with it no longer. Two months ago, a family of three disappeared from the face of this earth, and now MacPherson. I say we take the law into our own hands. I challenge every able-bodied man to meet me at the Lamb and Fleece inn at sunrise tomorrow. We’ll follow the route Mr. MacPherson took and see what we can find out.

It’s the least we can do for a fellow countryman.”

Several men in the group cheered with excitement and raised their fists in the air to show solidarity and support. Then they walked off in twos and threes discussing the prospect of finding some clue as to the whereabouts of MacPherson.

The following morning, a gray mist blanketed the Lamb and Fleece Inn and chilled the men’s bodies to the bone, but it did not dampen their spirits. Most were on foot anticipating a difficult hike around the coastline, but a few brought their trusty ponies. Several carried a stout walking stick that could also be used as a weapon. They nodded to each other solemnly in greeting, but could barely control the excitement and anticipation they felt inside. Each had told their respective families and friends of their important mission, pleased they were finally doing something to help solve the mystery of the disappearances.

Malcolm Campbell arrived on his grey gelding sporting his distinctive plumed, three cornered hat edged in black silk. He wore his best red coat with two rows of gold buttons and black breeches, indicating the importance of his position. He greeted them heartily and noted there were more men present than he expected. In fact, more men emerged from the tree line as others stumbled from the warmth of their homes hurriedly kissing their wives goodbye.

Pleased with the turnout, Campbell shouted, “I know the Baillie Fergusson has done his best to find the whereabouts of Mr. MacPherson, but surely we can help in some small way. It’s good to see so many of you have turned out this morning. Who knows what we shall find, but at least we are not sitting at home twiddling our thumbs.” This comment brought a little chuckle from some of the men in the group. “If we can determine the cause of MacPherson’s disappearance or find any clues as to his whereabouts, we will have achieved something. Don’t you agree? Are there any questions before we begin?”

One man coughed nervously from the back of the group and spoke in a gruff voice. “My wife is scared stiff that we may come across a gang of ruffians that we are ill equipped to fight. We are expecting our first baby Campbell and to be honest, I’m not sure I want to place myself in harm’s way. Perhaps we should leave it in the Baillie’s capable hands?”

“Do not fear my man; we should not encounter any violence. We will merely follow MacPherson’s trail and see what we discover. For all we know, he fell off his horse and broke a leg, or worse. He could even be lying in a ditch somewhere between here and Lendalfoot or even at the bottom of Bennane Head at this very minute. But hopefully we’ll soon find out. Everyone knows how treacherous the road can be especially on a dark night. There’s safety in numbers my friends, do not be afraid, and if there’s anything that concerns us, anything at all, we’ll return immediately, tell the Baillie and place it squarely in his hands.” His comments seemed to put most of the men at ease, although some still fidgeted back and forth adjusting their hats nervously.

It was at that moment the door of the inn opened, the light from within framing the innkeeper. He stepped outside holding a tray of toddies.

“Something to warm the cockles of your heart,” he said as he handed the tray around. The men gratefully moved towards the tray of whiskey, each man taking a toddy and downing it in one gulp. It warmed their bellies and buoyed them into action.

“Come, let us be on our way,” yelled Campbell as he turned his horse around. The rest followed suit in a straggly line, some on horseback, some on ponies and others on foot.

The men were mostly quiet as they walked through the town. They smiled at the women, older men and children who had lined up to watch them go. Dogs ran ahead of the group barking loudly as some older men touched their hats in salute.

On and on the men tramped, up over the lower moor, then towards the upper moor and the peninsular, climbing constantly towards Bennane Head. Some of the men

looked down at their village nestled in the Firth of Clyde, and picked out their fishing boats lying uselessly in the mud awaiting the return of the tide. Not much was said as they trudged forward following the path that meandered alone the coastline in one instant and then abruptly turned inland through densely wooded areas so dark it was hard to see anything at all.

The men began grumbling after an hour or so hiking on the trail. “This is pointless,” said one as he slid over on the muddy path. “It all sounded well and good in the beginning…but now I’m not so sure we’re doing the right thing. Perhaps we should go back Campbell.”

“Come on,” responded Campbell, “where’s your gumption? If you are tired, we can take a rest. It’s not long now before we reach Bennane Head, just a little longer I promise you.”

Properly chastised and embarrassed, the man waved his hand. “No, that isn’t necessary, let’s keep going for a while,” he responded gloomily.

They continued in silence for almost another hour before several more men spoke their minds.

“It wouldn’t surprise me if MacPherson’s horse was startled by something, a wild boar perhaps, and his horse reared and threw him off. He may have become disoriented and stumbled over the cliff. After all, it was getting dark…suppose he hit his head?” one man offered.

“Yes, that’s a possibility,” responded Campbell. “Look, we’re at the clearing, let’s take a break and have something to eat and drink and we can look around.”

Chapter 43

“There’s something I need to do before I put anything else in my bladder,” responded one man.” Everyone laughed loudly.

“Me too, I’m about to burst. I thought we’d never stop,” said another who climbed down and staggered in an exaggerated fashion towards the bushes, as the other men jeered in delight.

Campbell dismounted and walked to the edge of the cliff looking down at the sea. “If he fell from here, there’d be no hope for him and the sea and the crabs would take care of the rest,” he said to no one in particular. The men stood around him nodding solemnly.

“I think we’ve done well so far today men, what say you? Those that brought food and drink, let’s share it out and then we will make our way on to Lendalfoot.”

They sat and enjoyed the little food they had brought, and then most man walked off to relieve themselves before setting out for home. One ventured farther than the rest to a little clearing off the beaten path. Humming to himself, he was particularly pleased that he had made the journey. It was something he could boast about to Jenny, the young girl in town who had caught his eye. He was unbuttoning his trousers when he noticed something bright lying on the ground among the damp leaves. He moved it around with his foot at first and then reached down and picked up what he thought was a button. It was a button, but it was still attached to the sleeve cuff of a jacket. The sleeve looked as though it had been ripped off a coat, the ends ragged and stained. The man scooped up his find, and rushed back to the group. “See, see what I’ve found? Could this be a clue?” he said holding the cuff high in the air.

Campbell hurried over and took the tattered piece of clothing in his hands. Turning it this way, he noted the dark brown patch that looked like dried blood. “This looks promising…the wool is of high quality and note the color, dark green edged with yellow silk. See how finely stitched it is, that suggests it belonged to a gentleman. Yes, this certainly could be a clue to the disappearance of Mr. MacPherson. Well done Thomas. My hat’s off to you. Let’s return to Ballantrae immediately and give this information to Baillie Fergusson.”

The men were only too pleased to return home, and quickly pulled their things together. On the return journey some mulled over the last few hours of Mr. MacPherson’s life and the fact that he was just the latest in a long list of victims. It was not long before others voiced their concerns out loud.

“How many of the travelers stayed at the Lamb and Fleece Inn before they disappeared,” said one man absentmindedly? All understood immediately the implication of the question and that sparked others to question the honesty of the innkeeper. Perhaps he was in cahoots with a gang and let them know when and where a traveler was going after leaving the inn. The more they talked, the more some felt the innkeeper must have had a hand with MacPherson’s disappearance and perhaps had been involved with some or all of the disappearances over the years. It would be something to mention to the Baillie on their return.

But Campbell would have none of it and voiced his opinion that the innkeeper was above suspicion.

“I’ve known David since I arrived in Ballantrae twenty years ago,” said Campbell. “He has never…to my knowledge been anything other than an upright and honest man.”

“Well then, he has nothing to worry about does he?” responded another. “But the fact is that many of the travelers lodged or had their last meal at the inn before they continued their journey and were never seen again – and that’s a fact.”

It was early afternoon when Campbell and his men gathered at the Lamb and Fleece Inn. The innkeeper had recently finished brewing a new batch of ale, and was saying farewell to the Ale Conner, a man whose job it was to insure the ale had been properly fermented. Acliff was smiling broadly know the penalty for selling ale that was not properly fermented could often mean an hour or so in the village stocks.

“You’ve brewed fine ale there Acliff – I would say your patrons are in for a treat this evening.”

Acliff sighed with relief. He had watched as the Ale Conner poured a sample of his freshly brewed ale on a wooden bench and then sat on it for some time talking animatedly with those around him. After a while, he stood up easily, his leather breeches not sticking to the bench, the required indicator the ale had been properly fermented.

Acliff and the Ale Conner walked outside together and talked for a few moments as the innkeeper wrapped a garland around a post to alert the villagers he had a new batch of ale for sale. They stopped talking as Campbell and his men arrived. Acliff called out to them, “New ale men.”

Campbell wearily swung his leg over his saddle and, taking his reins in his hands, walked towards the innkeeper.

When Acliff saw the look on Campbell’s face, he stopped wrapping the garland. “What’s wrong Campbell, you look worried. What did you find?”

“Let’s talk inside, David.”

The innkeeper beckoned Campbell inside noting the rest of the men stayed outside, as if guarding the entrance.

“Please, tell me what’s wrong. This morning you set off in such good spirits, but now I see you are much troubled,” said Acliff.

Campbell lost no time in coming to the point.

“By my reckoning, at least three of the missing travelers have either lodged here or stopped for food and drink before they disappeared.”

“Well, yes maybe more than three,” answered Acliff hesitantly, “but what has that to do with me?” Then the implication of the question dawned on him. “Surely, surely, you don’t think I had anything to do with the disappearances.

You’ve known me for years. You know I could never be involved with anything so evil. How could you imply such a terrible thing? You do me a disservice Campbell.”

Campbell removed the partial sleeve and cuff from inside his coat and laid it on the table. They both sat staring at it, neither wanting to touch it. The innkeeper studied the dark rust colored patch which he assumed was dried blood.

“One of my men found this lying on the ground near Bennane Head,” Campbell said as he watched the innkeeper’s face carefully. “It was pure chance that he noticed it, and we decided to bring it back to show the Baillie to see if it belonged to Mr. MacPherson, but I wanted you to see it first, to see if you recognized it.”

Campbell was quick to notice the color drain from the innkeeper’s face.

“You look quite ill Acliff, ashen in face if I may say so. Do you recognize the fabric?”

Acliff stammered a response. “Yes, yes I do.

Glen McPherson was wearing just such a coat. I remember it well because he removed it as he sat by the fire to eat his meal. When he removed his coat, I noticed he wore a very fine gold watch in his waistcoat pocket that he took out and checked the time. I remember because he said, ‘its three o’clock now, if you hurry with my meal, I should be home by nightfall.’ I swear to you Campbell that was the last I saw of him. He rode off and I assumed he returned safely to his poor wife. Sometime later, I heard from a traveler that MacPherson’s horse was found a couple of miles from his home in Lendalfoot and his wife was so distressed, she fell into a fit and died. This is all very sad, but I swear to God that I had nothing to do with MacPherson’s disappearance, or anyone else for that matter.”

“Well, thank you David, but I had to ask because several of the men questioned your involvement,” said Campbell as he rose from the bench. “I’m sure you can expect a visit from Baillie Fergusson. These disappearances have the whole town on edge. For God’s sake, if you know anything, anything at all, please let the Baillie know. News such as this will spread like wildfire and it hurts every man, woman and child in the village, surely you understand that?”

After Campbell left, the innkeeper quickly closed the door and leaned against it gasping for breath. “How

could I be a suspect in the disappearances of those travelers?� he said aloud. But he did as he was told and allowed his mind to return to that last afternoon of MacPherson’s visit. Was there anything he had noticed and yet forgotten? He didn’t think so.

A loud banging on the door and shouting from the other side brought Acliff back from his musings. A couple of men from the village were ready to sample the new ale. He opened the door and they entered the inn bellowing about their exploits along the coastline looking for clues. Acliff stood back and spread his arms wide as he invited them to sit.

Quickly, he brought two tankards of ale, nervously sloshing it on the table as he set them down.

“Careful dear sir, don’t waste good ale. You serve the man who found a clue to the disappearance of Glen MacPherson.”

“Well I never,” said Acliff. “I’m happy for you Thomas. The next draught is on me.”

The men smiled broadly, pleased with their new found celebrity and settled down on a bench by the window. Supping their ale, they leaned back against the windowsill and, as the inn filled with quests, they began to tell their story.

Chapter 44

It was raining as Alice stumbled down the coach steps in York. The coachman reached out to help her, and she gladly took his gloved hand in hers.

He smiled at her warmly, “There’s a respectable inn just down there called The King’s Head,” he said gesturing with his hand, “It’s not a bad place, the food’s good and the beds are clean and soft. You don’t want to be walking around in this weather, especially at this hour.”

“I’ll make my way there – thank you, you’ve been very kind.”

“Think nothing of it. I have a daughter about your age. I wouldn’t like to think she was in a strange town, her friend having deserted her.”

“I’m sure there’s a good reason he missed the coach. He’ll come tomorrow I’m sure,” she lied, “but thank you for your concern.”

She walked down the cobbled lane in the direction the coachman had indicated. She came to an inn, and peered in at the window. Men stood around in clusters drinking and laughing loudly. The women wore tight corsets that pushed their breasts high on their chests. Their skirts were full, a short peplum at the waist, and they had powered their hair with flour or the dusk of rotten oak trees. Alice remembered asking her mother about the strange practice, but her mother had offered no more information saying, “It’s the way of the world.”

The men laughed at something that was said and slapped each other on the back. One man looked over towards the window. Fearful, Alice ducked down out of sight and walked on. The lane was lined with homes, the front doors leading directly into the street. She wondered what the

homes were like inside. Who lived in them? Rich people she supposed people of substance? She moved towards a glow from one of the windows and stood on tip toe. From her vantage point, she could easily see into the home. A woman was peeling something she held in her left hand. A long streamer fell into a bucket on the floor. The floor was covered in rushes, something Alice had never seen before. A man and a boy of about fifteen years of age sat at the other end of the table. They were playing some kind of board game. The young boy said something to the older man, who threw his head back and laughed heartily. The boy looked annoyed at first, but then joined in the laughter. Alice searched her brain trying to remember what the game was called. Her mother had told her that men played Checkers and Nine Man Morris – yes, it had to be one of those games.

Suddenly, the boy caught sight of Alice. He pointed in her direction and yelled causing his father to jump up quickly, knocking the board game and his stool to the floor. He ran to the door.

Alice was mortified. Taking two steps backwards, she could not decide whether to run or stand her ground? The door burst open, and a large man stood silhouetted against the light.

“What are you doing here,” his eyes swept the street, “Why do you watch us?”

“I, I didn’t mean any harm.”

“Now, now Andrew, give the girl a chance to respond,” Why, she’s not much older than our own boy.”

“I’ve just got off the coach from Stranraer and I’m going to The King’s Head for the night. I don’t know why I looked in at your window. I’m sorry I disturbed you.”

Against her husband’s wishes, the woman gently pushed him aside. Speaking softly he said, “My name is Sally Clements; this is my husband Andrew, and our son Colin. What are you doing out on your own at this hour. You look tired and worn out – would you like to come inside. You could share our evening meal if you wish? We have plenty.”

The woman opened the door and stepped back.

Timidly at first, Alice stepped over the threshold and stared about her. The room was warm and comforting. Something that smelled delicious boiled nosily in a pot on the fire, and damp clothes hung on a clothes horse.

“Come right in dear girl,” said Sally as she folded the clothes horse and stood it against a wall. “There, sit right there and rest,” she murmured.

The woman’s husband and son continued where they left off. Both looked up occasionally, and Alice dropped her eyes.

“We have rabbit stew tonight,” said Sally brightly, “I’m just peeling some potatoes – supper won’t be long now. Tell me, where are you from? What’s your name?

Did you come all the way from Stranraer? Where are your parents?

“My name is Alice MacDonald. My mother passed away recently and I was left with my father and brothers - it was a very difficult time for me....” Alice did not finish the sentence and began to cry.

Sally looked at her purposefully, strode over and placed an arm around her shoulders. “I suspected something was wrong, you have a look about you, a young girl traveling without an escort, with no luggage. Did you run away?”

“Yes,” whispered Alice nodding. “I had to...get away from them.”

“I thought as much,” Sally said knowingly, suspecting the worse.

“We will help you, won’t we Andy?” She looked over to her husband who shook his head in exasperation. She signed, “Take no notice of him. He’ll come around, but where are you going?”

Alice lied. “I have an uncle in Essex. I’ve written to him – he’s expecting me.”

“But how do you propose getting there? Essex is easily four days hard journey from here.”

“I have money for the coach and lodging. My mother gave it to me before she died?” another catch in her voice.

“Well, you won’t be spending any of your

mother’s good money tonight my dear. Now let’s get cleaned up ready for supper. Come with me?”

Alice followed her upstairs to a tiny bedroom.

“This is Colin’s room; he can sleep on the floor in our room tonight.”

“Why are you helping me,” asked Alice.

“I was raised a Quaker – it’s what we do. If we can’t help those in need – what’s the point in life? There’s water in the jug, and a little soap on the washstand. Get washed up, food will be ready soon.” She disappeared downstairs.

A Quaker thought Alice – what are Quakers? I must find out. She walked towards the washstand and rolled up her sleeves. Using the washcloth, she washed the grim from her face, neck and arms. It felt good to get clean.

Sometimes at night, when she and her mother had been sent outside to collect driftwood, they washed their bodies in the tide pools. Alice smiled as she remembered how they splashed water at each other in fun. There were so few happy moments over the years.

Removing her combs, she braided and wrapped her hair it around her head. Placing the combs where they belonged, she held on to the rickety banister and made her way downstairs.

Chapter 45

The family looked up to see a clean faced young woman coming down the stairs.

“Well I must say, what an improvement,” said Sally with a smile. “Come, sit here next to me.” She picked up a large knife and began cutting into a loaf. There’s fresh butter and as much stew as you can eat.” She hoisted a large black pot onto the table. Taking a wooden ladle off a hook on the wall, she filled Alice’s bowl with the steaming broth. “Just a moment, I’m not finished yet.” She scooped up several small dumplings, and placed them in the bowl.

Mindful of the previous night, Alice sat with her hands in her lap and watched and waited. Sally clasped one of Alice’s hands and Colin picked up the other. Alice was about to pull her hands back, but waited as Andrew held the other tightly.

“Let us pray,” said Andrew. He closed his eyes and gave a blessing.

Unsure of what to do next, Alice kept her eyes closed, and waited. Finally, they released her hands, and she opened her eyes slowly.

The family had each picked up a spoon, and began digging into their food. Alice did the same but she was measured in her manners. She waited until she had been offered more bread and took a small piece. She watched how Sally broke her bread into little pieces, popping them casually into her mouth.

When they had finished their meal, Sally was the first to speak. “Help me with the dishes Alice; we’ll let the men continue playing their game.”

Busy with her work, Sally began. “I sense you are apprehensive about seeing your uncle – am I correct?”

Seeing the look on Alice’s face, Sally continued. “I know I’m being direct...but I know no other way to be. You said your mother had given you a little money; why not spend some of it. You should look your best when you see your uncle. I have a friend in the High Street who could help you with such things. We could go first thing in the morning and then you could catch the afternoon coach. What do you say?”

“I would like that very much indeed, thank you.”

“Good, then that’s settled. Tomorrow morning, bright and early mind you. Now we need to get these dishes done. I have some mending to do and I’m sure you would like to get an early night.”

Alice lay in the soft bed listening to the muffled sounds of the family downstairs. Why couldn’t I have had such a life she thought? Her mind wandered back to the cave, Sawney, Agnes and the clan. What would they be doing at this moment? Robert would surely be back in the cave by now. She felt sorry for him knowing he would get a beating, but in the same breath she had escaped. I must make the most of it, she thought and tomorrow I will buy another nice dress and other things and perhaps even a bag to carry my possessions. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and fell asleep in seconds.

It was the hustle and bustle of life in the lane outside her window that awoke Alice. She jumped out of bed immediately, and pulled on her dress. Smoothing her hair with her hands, she climbed down the stairs.

“There you are – as pretty as a picture I must say,” said Sally and she stirred something in the black pot.

Porridge for breakfast – you like it don’t you?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had it before...but I’m sure I’ll like it.”

“Never had porridge before – what a funny little goose you are! Full of mischief this morning aren’t you?

Get this down you, and then we’ll go shopping.”

They strolled down the street together passing the Guild Hall and the church. Alice stopped in mid sentence and looked at a wooden structure on the Village Green. She tilted her head this way and that trying to imagine what it could be used for. It was hinged on one side and latched on the other with a large lock holding the two pieces of wood together. There were three openings, one large in the center and two smaller openings. “What is that?” asked Alice.

Sally looked at her in disbelief, “It’s a stock, silly. Are you still teasing me? How did you punish people in your village? Our baker was giving short change on his loaves – he was put in the stocks yesterday afternoon as punishment.

Look, you can see the rotten tomatoes and eggs that were thrown at him. Serves him right, he shouldn’t cheat his customers.”

Alice just sighed not fully understanding what she had heard. Instead she held Sally’s arm. By midday, Alice had bought her new clothes. A lovely green brocade dress with gold trim, a new hat, leather gloves and shoes and a short dark red woolen cape, that barely covered her shoulders. She had fallen in love with the cape, and had to have it.

Sally burst out laughing. “I used to be the same way when I was your age Alice. I’m glad you found something. Oh my goodness, I would have so much enjoyed having a daughter like you.” She put her arm around Alice and hugged her. “You look like a real lady. Your uncle will be so impressed when he sees you.”

Alice also bought a secondhand carpet bag. In it she placed her old dress, boots and her drawstring bag.

Pulling the wooden handles together and securing them with a loop, she smiled at Sally.

“You look very nice Alice,” said Sally smiling. “You’ve spent quite a lot of money; do you still have enough to reach your uncle?”

“Yes, I believe so,” Alice held Sally’s hand, “Thank you for helping me.”

“Think nothing of it. Now, there are two coaches today. You’ve already missed the early one, but there’s another at noon. Do you want to catch that one or wait until tomorrow? If you plan on leaving at lunchtime, you’ll need to be waiting in the High Street by noon.

Alice looked up at the sun. “What a beautiful day. I may just as well leave and be on my way.”

“Let’s stop off at my house and I’ll wrap some food for you.”

They waited together for almost half an hour in an awkward silence, and still the coach had not arrived.

“I’m sorry Alice, but I need to get back to the house. My men will want to have their lunch. I’ll say goodbye little Alice, think of me won’t you?” She turned quickly and ran off down the street.

Almost immediately, Alice could hear the clatter of horses’ hooves on the cobblestones. She stepped into a shop entrance and waited. Four black horses rounded the corner following by a mail coach. The driver pulled hard on the reins bringing the horses to a standstill. He climbed down from his seat, walked around to the passenger door and pulled down a two rung ladder from underneath the carriage.

The door flew open. There standing as bold as brass stood John Dunn.

Alice gasped, brought her hand to her face and turned away. What should she do? She wanted to run to him, to throw herself into his arms and ask him why he had left her. Then, in the next instant, she wanted to beat him about his head and body for treating her so badly. She watched from the safety of the shop doorway as an older man and woman greeted him. They were dressed in the finest clothes, soft leather boots and expensive leather gloves. They hugged their son and greeted him warmly.

“We got your message last night. One of the travelers kindly brought it to our house. You said you’d been detained – oh, it’s so good to see you son. You must tell us all about your travels.”

“There’s not much to tell,” Responded John, “I got detained on business and missed the coach.”

Alice watched the trio walk away, the mother slid her arm through her son’s elbow and smiled up at him.

When they were completely out of sight, she emerged from the shop doorway and made her way to the coach. It wouldn’t have worked anyway she thought. The morning had begun so well, but now her happiness had turned sour. She tried to reach up and place her bag in the rack above her head.

“Let me do that for you.”

Alice turned and looked down to see a kindly, old man. He stood up, touched his hat and took the bag from her. He chuckled. “I’m a little taller than you, allow me.” He smiled at her after placing the bag above her head. He wore a black frock coat with white stockings, soft black leather shoes with gold buckles. His pure white shirt matched his white whiskers and his eyebrows curled upwards. He held out his hand, “George Duncan. And you are?”

Alice held out her hand demurely, “Alice MacDonald. Thank you for your help.”

“It’s my pleasure. Are you traveling alone, Miss MacDonald?”

“Yes, my Aunt Sally could not accompany me. I’m going to Essex to visit my uncle.”

The man looked her up and down. “You have a long journey ahead of you.”

“Yes indeed,” Alice answered and looked out the window.

The coachman’s loud voice boomed, “All aboard for Doncaster, Nottingham and then London.”

One last minute traveler rushed up the steps and threw himself bodily into a seat opposite Alice. The coach lunged forward – they were on their way.

Aware she was being watched; Alice shuffled her feet and touched her hat nervously. The last person to get on the coach was a young man who introduced himself as Peter Finch. He was brash, full of himself and very confident.

He did his best to make polite conversation about the textile trade in York and, when that did not work, he turned to the weather. “A fine September afternoon is it not?” he said looking around at the passengers.

“Quite, quite,” responded the older man with the white whiskers, and continued reading.

Finch looked at Alice and raised his eyebrows.

She stifled a smile and looked down to her hands that were nestled in her lap. The other travelers either dozed or read, so Alice stared out the window watching the world rush by.

Chapter 46

Alice awoke to the coach driver’s voice. “Next stop is the town of Doncaster. We’ll stop for half an hour, and then continue to Nottingham – arriving late in the evening. I’d advise you to eat and rest before we set out again. The second part of the journey will be the hardest.”

The passengers stumbled out the coach, and the coachman led his passengers across the Village Green to the closest inn. Alice decided to sit outside and eat the food Sally had packed for her. The salt bacon and bread tasted delicious, and the apples sweet. She leaned back against the wall of the inn and looked around. A man walked past the inn, a scythe on his back going to or coming from work. He wore a leather jerkin and boots, the arms of his shirt rolled up exposing his well muscled arms. Soaked in sweat, he took the red spotted kerchief from his neck and wiped his face as he walked by oblivious of her watchfulness. Two pretty young women in straw hats passed by. They laughed as they held onto each others’ arms sharing some little tidbit of life. Alice found herself wishing she could be as carefree as the women.

They can’t be much older than I am, she thought. They looked in her direction and smiled. She returned the gesture and nodded to them. Looking down at her food she thought if you only knew – if you only knew what I’ve been through. How could anyone imagine the secrets she held in her heart. Secrets she could only share with Catherine.

Finch walked out the inn and watched the women past by. One of them looked back at him and he touched his hat to her. She giggled and continued on her way.

He stood with his legs apart, hands rammed into his trouser pockets as he looked down at her. “You came well prepared, I must say.”

“I beg your pardon,” responded Alice.

“I meant to say you have a nice little picnic going there. Would you mind if I joined you?”

Before she could answer, he sat down hard on the bench, extended and crossed his legs, and blew out his cheeks. “What a miserable group of travelers – not you mind, I’m not including you by the way. What did you say your name is?”

“I didn’t.”

“Oh come on! Let’s you and I be friends, if only for our journey. You don’t want to talk to the other old grumps, I can tell. How far are you going?”

“My final destination is Essex. Now, if you will please let me enjoy my food.”

“That’s good enough for me. I’m going to London,” said Finch as he stood up and sauntered back to the coach.

Alice watched him swagger away. He was very handsome. His long fair hair hung down over his collar and his clothes were quite clean. She had looked at his hands and although they were rough and calloused they were relatively clean too. Had she been too unkind to him? He had tried to be friendly, and she had spurred him. After finishing her meal, she opened her little drawstring bag and took out the Bible. A sudden feeling of fear crept over her. What if the Earl did not recognize her for who she was? How would he feel about her mother and what she had done to survive over the years? She made a decision there and then. She would wait until she found her sister, explain what had happened and then together they would go the Earl. I don’t even know where the priory is she thought. I’ll go to the village of Hadleigh first; surely someone there will help me.

The innkeeper came out to check on her. In his hands, he held a tankard of ale. Placing the ale on the table he said, “I saw you out here alone. Be careful won’t you? Watch out for that young man,” he said nodding in the direction of Finch, and he disappeared inside his inn.

She drank it down greedily. Reaching inside her purse, she pulled out a penny and placed it under the tankard as payment. That reminded her to check again how

much money she had. With her finger, she pushed the coins around in her purse, two guineas, fifteen shillings and sixpence. That should be enough to get her to her destination.

Pulling the drawstring bag closed, she sighed.

She had not felt very well all morning, but had not wanted to admit it. She simply had to get to Essex, and nothing was going to stop her. She ran her hand over her forehead; it felt hot to the touch.

The towns and villages all began to look alike, but once in a while she saw buildings that seemed different.

She could not help herself, “Did you see that,” Alice asked of the other passengers, “Did you see those houses – they had straw on their roofs.”

Mr. Duncan smiled at her. “That’s called thatching and although it seems flimsy to northerners, it’s actually very strong and durable. They are quite common in this area as well as in Essex. You’ll see much of it there with intricate designs – a Thatcher is known by his particular style and patterns.”

“That’s very interesting, thank you,” said Alice.

The journey became monotonous. They stopped in Nottingham for the last night and Mr. Duncan wished her farewell as he climbed from the carriage. He nodded, “Take care young lady.” He touched his hat, and was gone into the night.

“I’ll see all those who plan on traveling to London at 8:00 AM sharp,” said the coachman.

Alice tried to lift her bag from the rack, but Finch was there first. “Let me help?” His hand touched hers and she pulled it back quickly. “No need to get jumpy,” he said.

“I don’t need your help.”

Smiling, he turned to look at her. “I think you do.”

She stumbled into the closest inn, paid her money and the innkeeper gave her a key. Running up the stairs, she locked the door and pushed a chair under the handle. Why did she feel this way about this man? He was just being friendly because they were both young people in a carriage full of old codgers. Perhaps she had been too hasty, but it did not matter now, she was tired, ready for sleep and besides, she had to be at the coach station at 8:00 AM for the

long trip to London. Happily, Alice snuggled in her bed and was asleep in minutes.

Up at the crack of dawn, she looked out the window. Her mother had told her what to expect of the woodland during the autumn. Alice wiped her breath from the window and peered outside. The sun was peeking over the fields, a bright glow that warmed her spirits. The sun’s rays hit a stand of trees by the side of a small pond providing a kaleidoscope of red, orange and yellow. A little red fox was drinking from the pond. He looked around nervously as if expecting something or someone to attack him. He ran off with his nose to the ground, zigzagging his way across the field looking for breakfast.

Alice had changed into her better dress and was smoothing it down in the carriage when Finch climbed in to join her. “You look very nice today.

“Thank you.”

“You’re not being very talkative.”

“Do I need to be?”

“Not at all, but I think since we’re the only passengers going to London, it’s going to be a long trip if we’re not going to talk to each other.”

There was something about the man she liked.

He was very charming and complimentary and made her laugh often during the journey.

The coachman called out to his young passengers. “I’m going at a steady pace. We’ll be in London by nightfall. If you need me to stop, just bang on the roof of the carriage. I’ll hear you – have no fear.”

The journey seemed endless, but finally the carriage pulled into a coaching inn and the now familiar voice called out. “We’re here in London.”

Finch reached up for Alice’s bag. Handing it to her he asked, “Where are you staying?”

“I haven’t decided yet. Perhaps I’ll stay right here at this coaching inn. It seems as good a place as any.”

“All right...now this is just an idea, but why not come with me to the City? We could have some food, a drink or two.”

“I don’t know. I think it’s best to stay here.”

“But you want to see London don’t you. You can’t come all this way and not see the City. I’ll take good

care of you – I promise.”

Alice mulled over the idea. Why not, she thought, I may never been in London again. On impulse she said. “Let me pay for a room and leave my bag.”

After washing her face and hands, Alice ran downstairs. She was excited about the evening. Despite her initial concerns about Finch, he had made her laugh during the journey and paid her lots of compliments. She loved the feeling of freedom, to do whatever she wanted without fear or punishment. Finch was waiting by the door, and held out his arm. “May I escort you to town Miss?”

She smiled and passed her arm through his, and they walked off into the night.

Chapter 47

Peter Finch patted Alice’s arm as they walked.

“I know London quite well as it happens - I grew up here. I’m going to take you to a place where the food is wonderful, and the ale is the best in London.”

“You hadn’t mentioned you lived here. What were you doing up north? Did you have business up there?”

“You could say that,” Finch chuckled “Business.”

They entered an inn next to the River Thames called The Grapes. It was very dark inside and they took a booth against the far wall. Immediately, a large man appeared.

“What can I get you?” he said wiping his hands on his soiled apron.

“Don’t you recognize me Fred – Peter Finch at your service. I know it’s been a while but I thought you’d recognize your old friend. We’ll have two plates of your best meat and cheese, some onions and a pitcher of your best ale.”

“Sorry, didn’t notice you Peter. You look different. What’ve you been up to? I don’t think I’ve seen you for a year or more,” the innkeeper looked at Alice “Who’s this filly?”

Alice blushed to the roots of her hair. “She’s just a friend,” said Peter, “We met on the coach coming here.

I’m famished Fred where’s that food.”

The innkeeper plodded off and returned with the food minutes later. Peter tucked into the food, but Alice picked away at it, “I thought you’d be hungry,” he said.

“I thought so too at first, now I feel rather ill.”

“Well, drink up. That ale will do you a world of good.”

The ale did work wonders. Alice began to feel better and she drank an extra tankard. Before long, she felt giddy and the inn swam around her. Peter helped her to her

feet. “I think I’d better get you back to the inn. You’ll need to sleep this off.”

“What’s your room number?” asked Peter when they arrived.

“Number four.”

Alice could hardly place one foot in front of the other as she climbed the stairs.

“I’ll take you up and make sure you’re settled comfortably for the night before I leave you.”

“You’re very kind,” said Alice as Peter unlocked the door and pushed it open.

The blow hit Alice in the middle of her back so hard she could not get her breath. She stumbled forward, her knees hitting the oak floor, and she cried out with pain.

Crawling forward, she felt the second blow to her backside. It was a mean and vicious attack and she lay there where she fell moaning softly, knowing what was next. He picked her up easily, as though she were a doll, and flung her onto the bed.

“You’ve teased me all the way from Doncaster you little whore; don’t think I haven’t seen what you want in your eyes.”

She stared at his face. What had she done?

What had she done to deserve this? He pulled at his trousers, lowering them to the ground. Ripping at her dress, he tore it aside and reached for her breasts. “I know you want it. Tell me you want me,” he mumbled over and over.

She would not answer. She would not cry, and he became angry. “What’s wrong with you?” he pushed her back into the pillow. “You bitch, are you laughing at me?” He slapped her hard across the face.

Alice put her hand to her face. Where he had hit her, it smarted and she rubbed it painfully. “You’re a fool if you think you can do anything that hasn’t been done before – and by better men.”

He punched her in the stomach violently; grabbing her arms and forcing her legs open so he could penetrate her easily. There was no use in fighting, she knew that. He was simply too strong. She did not respond, and lay staring at the ceiling thinking of her sister. When he was done, he collapsed beside her, his breath labored. When she was sure he was asleep, she rolled off the bed and crawled up in a corner of the room. Hugging her legs to her chest, she could

not focus, the room spinning around. Then she was on all fours again vomiting into the corner. Even in the meager light, she could see the streaks of blood in the vomit. What has he done to me she thought? Dizzy and freezing cold, she half dragged herself towards a chair on the opposite side of the room and covered herself with a blanket.

When morning came, she was alone. Her bag open, her clothes strewn across the room, her money gone.

The Bible lay next to the bed. She picked it up and cradled it in her hands. Cleaning her bruised body as best she could, she climbed into her spare dress and combed her hair. Sobbing quietly to herself, she pulled on her gloves and stumbled down the stairs into the street.

After walking for about half a mile, there was no denying the pain Alice felt in her stomach. She reached a haberdashery shop in Pudding Lane and braced herself against the doorframe trying to relieve the tenderness. An older woman came from the shop and put a hand on Alice’s shoulder. “What’s wrong dear? Are you ill?”

“I just, I just...need to get my breath. I’ll be on my way soon. Thank you for stopping,” answered Alice.

“Well, where are you going? Perhaps I can walk with you for while.”

Alice threw her head back and laughed – something she often did when she was nervous. “I’m going to Hadleigh, Essex, to see my uncle. Can you point me in the right direction?”

“Good grief that will take you at least two days. You don’t look well enough to travel. Why don’t you sit over there and rest for a while.”

Alice pulled herself upright, “No, I must get going.”

“Foolish girl,” responded the woman under her breath. “Well, if you must, take the Old London Road until you get to Rayleigh, then you should ask again. That’s the best advice I can give you. I wish you a safe journey.”

Shaking her head, the woman walked off down the street and carried on with her own business.

There was kindness along the way. Farmers stopped to help her but mostly she walked. Her boots had holes in them and her dress was filthy. She suspected the blow to her stomach had caused some internal damage, because she constantly tasted blood. She had violent coughing fits, but that paled in comparison to the pain in her stomach. I must get to Hadleigh she thought and from there – the priory.

Traveling due east, Alice approached an inn and asked the innkeeper for food, but was turned away.

“Please,” she begged, holding out her hand, but the door was slammed in her face. On and on she walked until she could smell the sea and the village of Benfleet came into view.

Small fishing boats bobbed on the shoreline, and cockle sheds lined the beach. Customers walked up and down, looking at the day’s catch, trying to decide what to buy. Some bartered with the costermongers offering eggs, or a hare in exchange for a pound or so of fish. It was a lively place, full of laughter as women held their husband’s arms and strolled along, baskets over their arms.

Alice licked her lips as she eyed the food.

Mussels, skate, cockles and eels kept fresh in a large trough fascinated her. Staring down into the water, she was not aware the stall holder was looking at her. “You look hungry. Do you have any money?”

Alice shook her head –“but I could offer you...” she did not finish.

“No need for that missy. Here take this and be on your way.”

The costermonger handed Alice a tin cup full of cockles. “Caught this morning – as fresh as can be,” he said. She greedily sucked the cockle from its shell devouring the little shell fish and looked back at the man. “Sorry Missy, that’s all I can spare,” and went about his work.

“I’m on my way to Hadleigh,” said Alice, can you tell me which road to take.

“Stay on this road, you can’t miss it. I’d say you’d be there within the hour.”

“Thank you for your kindness,” said Alice.

She turned to smile at him but he was already busy with a customer.

The dirt road turned to cobblestones and Alice she had arrived in Hadleigh. “I’m here mother,” she said aloud, “I’ve done it!”

She could see most travelers were heading towards the castle and stopped one of them. The man took one step backwards. “What do you want?”

“Can you tell me where I can find Hedingham Priory?”

“That’s ten miles or more – another day’s journey. You’ll need to take Hockley Woods and stay on the trail until...” He did not finish his sentence as Alice sank to the ground.

“Why she’s fainted clean away,” said one onlooker.

“What a state she’s in,” said another woman.

Hearing the commotion, a castle guard strutted over. “What’s going on here?” he yelled.

Just at that moment, The Earl of Essex returned from his daily ride. Looking down from his magnificent horse, he saw the crumpled body of a pretty young woman. “Who is she? Does anyone know this girl?”

“Never seen her in my life,” said one woman.

“Nor me sire,” said another.

“What is that she clutches to her chest?” the Earl asked of his guard.

The man wrenched the Bible from Alice’s hand and handed it to the Earl. “It’s a Bible sire.” Within seconds, the Earl was off his horse and kneeling beside the young woman. Flicking through the pages, he came across a lock of red hair and closed the book quickly. “Take her immediately to Mary. She’ll know what to do.”

The Earl watched as his guard gently picked the young girl up, and carried her across the courtyard to the kitchen. Shaking his head, he wondered who the mysterious young woman was, and how had she come in possession of his son’s Bible.

Part III Scotland – April - 1640

Chapter 48

A few days later just a little north of the town of Girvan, Scotland, Madeleine and Henry Sinclair kissed their new grandson before leaving their son’s home. It was early morning when they said their last goodbyes, never realizing this morning would change their lives forever.

Their son, Murray, had led his parents’ ten years old horse, Maisie from the barn, hitched her to the carriage that stood at the front of the house. Placing a foot stool on the ground, he held his hand to his mother and she took it gratefully, smiling into his beautiful gray eyes. “You are a good man Murray, and you have a bonny family.

There’s little in life to compare to such happiness. Take care of yourself, and God be with you. We’ll see you again soon.”

Henry climbed into the carriage, sat down next to his loving wife, and brought his hand to his hat in a farewell gesture. “We won’t leave it so long next time,” he said smiling as he picked up Maisie’s reigns. The horse began to walk immediately as if anxious to get home.

The two continued their journey talking as they had for the past twenty-five years; sometimes chuckling as they remembered something that had happened during the visit. At other times, they traveled in complete silence each comfortable in their own thoughts.

The Sinclair’s journey took them through the village of Girvan and then on to the coast road. Then they followed the ancient pathway as it meandered through dense woodland one moment, and then, as they rounded a point, provided a spectacular view of the Firth. They stopped at Bennane Head and looked in wonderment at Ailsa Craig out in the Firth. Henry said, “We’d best get going if we’re to reach Ballantrae by lunchtime.” Maisie stomped the ground and appeared eager to get going, but suddenly something worried her. She pointed her ears forward, pensive and alert.

“What’s wrong Maisie?” muttered Henry.

“This isn’t like you at all. Get along girl.” But the horse just stood there her eyes large and fixed on something only she could see.

“Perhaps she’s seen a badger; you know she doesn’t like badgers. Well, since she doesn’t seem to want to move on, I’ll take a few moments to myself. I had so much to drink this morning I doubt I’ll last until Ballantrae,” she chuckled.

“I don’t know Maddy,” said Henry using his pet name for his wife. “I feel uncomfortable all of a sudden, something’s spooked Maisie, but I know better than to argue with you.” He jumped down and walked to his wife’s side of the carriage, holding out his hand.

“Thank you kind sir,” she said mockingly as she reached for his hand, “I’ll be back before you know it.”

Henry climbed back into the carriage and began humming a little tune that had stayed with him all morning. He had hummed it to his new grandson as he sat on his knee, and now the melody flooded back to him.

It was the scream that brought him to his senses. It was a blood curdling scream from his dear wife, Maddy. He turned in his seat to see such a terrifying sight his mind could hardly comprehend it. There among the bushes and trees was a horde of savages dressed in filthy rags, their stringy hair hanging down like rats’ tails, their long sinewy arms grabbing and pulling his precious wife and dragging her from his view. He screamed at them to stop and began to climb down from the carriage, and they turned their attention towards him. Three men broke away from the rest and ran straight for him. They were only twenty or thirty feet from him, and closing quickly. He stood poised in the carriage not knowing whether he should jump to the ground and confront them or try to fend them off with his unloaded pistol under the seat. He decided it was worth a bluff and he reached down under the seat. He leveled the pistol at the savages. He could no longer hear his wife’s screams, and he was petrified.

They were almost upon him, their arms outstretched, their black teeth bared in anger, their eyes filled with hatred. They seemed more like wild animals completely devoid of any human traits. What was happening? He had to do something! They were so close to him, he could smell the stench of their bodies bearing down on him. He pointed the gun in their directions and knowing it foolhardy, screamed, “What do you want with us? What have you done to my wife?”

The confrontation caused the pack to stop momentarily in their tracks as if taking the measure of the man. They had not anticipated he would be brave enough to fight, and it caused them to hesitate for what seemed like a lifetime but in reality was no more than a few seconds. Henry held his breath. Never in his life had he been as scared as he was at this moment. He knew he was about to die. Bravely, he stood his ground and watched and listened as the leader said something he could not hear before they rushed forward once more screaming obscenities. The fear and noise of the onslaught was too much for Maisie. Startled by her master’s terrified screams and the smell of blood in the air, she bolted.

Henry was thrown physically back into the carriage as Maisie took off at full gallop and did not stop until she was exhausted.

When she eventually came to a standstill, Henry was slumped across the bench seat crying pitifully. He pulled a red spotted handkerchief from his pocket, blew his nose and wiped his eyes. It had all happened so quickly, it was like a terrible nightmare but yet he was wide awake and his wife was no longer at his side. He fell from the carriage and stumbled towards a downed tree and vomited. Wailing loudly, he sat with his head in his hands wondering what to do. Should he go back to Bennane Head or on to Ballantrae?

As hard as it was to admit, Madeleine was gone. Even if he could force Maisie to return, it would mean losing his own life and that would be pure folly. No, he would make his way as quickly as possible to Ballantrae and get help. He wearily climbed back into the carriage, took Maisie’s reins in his shaking hands and clicked his tongue. Despite his vigorous urgings, she plodded along at her own pace and slowly made

her way to town. Sobbing, with tears streaming down his face he entered the town of Ballantrae in a stupor.

Maisie came to a standstill at the Market Cross in the center of the town close to the church. Henry did not move and simply sat in the carriage weeping openly staring straight ahead. Several villagers cautiously approached the carriage.

“Why, it’s Henry Sinclair,” cried one.

“Something’s terribly wrong with him,” said another. “Well don’t just stand there – get the Baillie.”

The commotion brought people from their shops and caused passersby to stop what they were doing to gape, but Henry noticed none of it. Before long, a little crowd of spectators stood around the carriage.

“Make way there for Baillie Fergusson,” said Jack Cooper spreading his arms wide.

The Baillie marched importantly towards the carriage and looked at Sinclair. “What’s wrong here Master Sinclair?” Sinclair did not respond. “I say again, what’s wrong? Where’s Madeleine? Has something happened to her?”

Henry turned to look at the Baillie; his eyes wide with fear, his tear stained face a mask of terror. “They just took her.”

Fergusson suspected what had happened, and this time in broad daylight but he did not dare to alarm the residents of Ballantrae. “Help me get him down from there!” he yelled.

“You can take him over to my house,” said Cooper. “Let me help you.” They half dragged half pulled Sinclair down from the carriage. His legs did not appear to work and they had to support him bodily the few short yards to Jack Cooper’s home. They stumbled inside Sinclair fell down heavily in front of the fire.

The villagers crowded around the door and windows whispering excitedly.

“Get those people away from the door please,” said Fergusson. “We could lose this man if we’re not careful.

He’s going into shock. We need to keep him as quiet as possible and give him something to help with his distress – do you have any whiskey in the house?”

Cooper poured a generous glass and Sinclair took the amber liquid in both hands and sipped it greedily.

Within in a minute or two a little color returned to his face.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand he looked up at Fergusson and Cooper.

Fergusson placed his hands on his thighs and leaned towards Sinclair. “I know it’s difficult for you, but you must try to help me. What happened to your wife? Where is she?”

With a sad wail, Sinclair put his drink down and clasped his head in his hands. “Oh my God Fergusson, it was terrifying! They took her. I could do nothing to help. I could do nothing to help my poor Maddy.”

“What do you mean – they took her? Who took her?” asked the Baillie now a little irritated. Trying to keep the frustration out of his voice he continued. “Who took Madeleine and why? And why could you do nothing to help her?”

Sinclair looked up with fear in his eyes. “You cannot imagine the scene. It was horrific! There were six or seven people, perhaps more – I call them people, but really they were like savages!” he shuddered. “They looked like beasts that came from the forest. I smelled their bodies almost before I ever set eyes on them. My poor Maddy did not stand a chance. The journey is long you understand from Girvan and Maddy...” he did not finish but looked up into the eyes of the Baillie. “They must have been waiting for someone to come along. I wish we’d kept going. Oh my dear Maddy, what has happened to you?”

“Pull yourself together man. You’ve got to try and help us Sinclair,” said Fergusson.

“I can tell you nothing else! They leapt on her body as though they were animals, grunting and growling. I swear I saw them biting her.” He wailed loudly. “Oh Mother of God of help me?” he trembled as he recalled the scene.

“They came for me too, but Maisie was petrified. Her eyes were white and bulging with fear. She bolted, I couldn’t control her,” he rambled on and burst into tears again. “I could do nothing to help my dear wife. I felt so helpless and I feel awful for not defending her.”Once more, he put his head

in his hands and wailed. “I’m so ashamed of myself.”

Baillie Fergusson ran his hand over the stubble on his chin and then through his hair. Sinclair was a pitiful sight, and he could do nothing to ease the poor man’s pain. But there was one thing he could do; he would try to find Madeleine Sinclair, or what was left of her.

Chapter 49

The town of Ballantrae was abuzz with excitement as people stood in small groups whispering about the disappearance of Madeleine Sinclair while her husband, Henry, sat quietly by the fire sipping his second dram of whisky. As if in a trance, he kept mumbling to himself, “Beasts! Animals! That’s what they were evil, pure evil, eyes like blazing coals, I could do nothing to help her.” Then he would break into another sobbing fit as he watched the flames flicker over the peat in the fireplace.

Outside, Baillie Fergusson was taking command of the situation. He had gathered six mounted recruits from the town all eager and willing to leave at a moment’s notice. The excitement was building as women ran back supplying the men food and drink.

“There’s no time to lose men,” Fergusson announced. “We must go immediately if we are to help Mistress Sinclair. For all we know, it’s too late already. We are fortunate to have an eye witness this time and the exact location; we will surely get to the bottom of this mystery once and for all.” Fergusson’s horse reared up on its hind legs as he turned her around towards the crowd.

“We will be back before dusk,” he said to nobody in particular. “Please, don’t be afraid, there’s safety in numbers and we will not do anything foolish. Sinclair said a band of men attacked Madeleine, but, by the grace of God, had his horse not panicked we would never have known what happened.” With more bravado in his voice than showed on his face he shouted, “Follow me men.” They galloped off in the direction of Bennane Head, the horses’ hoofs echoing on the cobblestones.

The men rode nonstop towards their

destination. On arrival, the found the clearing quickly thanks to the description provided by Henry Sinclair. A slight rain had fallen during the last few hours, and the ground was moist, giving off an earthy odor.

Fergusson dismounted and looked at the ground. “This does not look good,” he said ominously as he surveyed the area. His men dismounted too and noted the blood trail leading from the clearing.

“See here,” said one, “even though it’s rained, there is so much blood. It’s unbelievable! The man ran along, crouching down, his eyes scanning the ground. “There’s more here and even more behind this bush. It’s as though there’s been a massacre.” He pointed to the ground. “See, the blood leads toward the cliff.”

“You don’t think that Henry Sinclair could have made the whole story up, do you?” said one man.

“Perhaps he was unhappy and wanted to get rid of his wife.

Who knows, he may have created this dreadful story saying they were attacked by savages but in actual fact, he may have done something to her himself. He could be trying to avoid punishment.”

“Nonsense!” said Fergusson, “I’ve known the Sinclair family for over twenty years, and they’re devoted to each other, and their family. He would never dream of hurting her; he loved every hair on her head. Besides, there was no blood on his body or his clothes. No, something terrible has happened here, I can feel it in my bones. We’re fortunate that Henry escaped. Come on, she can’t be too far away. Keep looking men. I want to hunt these monsters down until I find out what happened.”

“Look over here,” cried one man pointed at the ground, “doesn’t that look like a woman’s hat to you?

Perhaps it belongs to Mistress Sinclair?”

The men gathered in a small group looking down at the hat that was soaked in blood. Nobody volunteered to pick it up. Fergusson used his foot to move it. As he did so, little rivulets of blood ran over the ground and seeped into the soil. He gulped and with difficulty controlled himself as he looked at his men. “Something terrible has happened to Mistress Sinclair,” he muttered. “There is so much blood; she couldn’t possibly survive such an attack.”

The men grumbled amongst themselves. One man voiced what they were all thinking. “If you think it’s too late, then why are we still here?” The iron smell of blood filled their nostrils, and several began backing away from the cliff.

Fergusson ignored the comment. “We only have about two hours before darkness falls. Let us hurry and follow this trail to see where it leads us.”

“Are you mad?” asked one man. “This is suicide.”

“Who knows what we’ll find? I say we should return to town. This is pure folly,” said Fred Caster.

“You agreed to come and we will finish what we’ve started,” responded Fergusson. “Those that want to return please do so. The rest will come with me.”

Castor did not complain again and rather than suffer the ignominy, he simply followed the rest of the men as they tied their horses and began following the trail of blood. It was easy to do since little effort had been made to cover the tracks. Bushes had been tramped down; small branches looked as though they had been pushed aside with bloodied hands.

“See here Fergusson,” said one man, “many of the savages were barefoot. Do you not think that’s odd?”

Fergusson was rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

“Yes, the same thought struck me. It’s very strange. I can understand one or two not wearing boots, but the whole gang, especially at this time of the year…” he voiced trailed off.

“Looks as though she was dragged this way,” said one and he crouched down on the ground and followed the track with his hand. “You can see where her heels made deep gouges here in the dirt. Can you believe the audacity of such an attack and in broad daylight too?”

The drag marks led over the cliff face and down the sandy trail towards the beach.

“Now tell me, why would they take the trouble to take her down there?” Fergusson said more to himself than the others.

“Perhaps they robbed her of her belongings and, rather than be caught red handed, they decided to throw

her body into the sea,� said one man.

“But the tide is out. If they had thrown her over the cliff we would see her body lying there on the rocks,” scoffed Fergusson. “Think man, think! For some reason those ruffians took Madeleine to a different place – but for what purpose I ask you?”

“Perhaps because she could identify them,” offered Castor.

“Good point,” responded Fergusson.

“But what do we do now?” asked one of the men, dreading the answer.

“We will follow the trail down the cliff and see where it leads,” answered Fergusson.

“That’s what I thought you’d say,” said the man gloomily.

Without hesitation, Fergusson took the initiative and began the climb downwards. His men followed.

Here and there they saw drops of dried blood on the rocks that had not been washed away by the rain. At one point, the men gasped and held their hands to their mouths in horror as they saw clumps of gray hair with scalp still attached. They could not imagine who would do such a thing to a helpless woman.

The men avoided looking at each other fearing their friends would see the terror they felt inside. Only one man voiced his opinion.

“I don’t like this one bit,” mumbled Fred Caster as he stumbled behind Fergusson. “We don’t know what’s waiting for us below and once on the beach, our only escape is back up this path. I think it’s a foolish idea for us to go down there.”

Fergusson turned to him. “Do you ever stop complaining? I promised you I would keep you out of harm’s way, but we need to find whatever evidence we can before it’s washed away by the tide. We can only guess what’s happened to Mistress Sinclair…and we are so close. Keep moving men.” He tried to rally his small band of men, but even he was beginning to wonder if they should turn back.

It took just a few moments of scrambling down the cliff and the six men stood on the pebbly beach looking about them. Nothing seemed strange or out of place.

There was no noise, no seagulls swooping overhead and no

blood. They looked north towards Lendalfoot and south towards Ballantrae, but there was nothing to see in either direction, absolutely nothing.

“I think they must have had a boat waiting and they are long gone,” said Caster.

“Well, that doesn’t make any sense at all,” said Fergusson. “They couldn’t have known the Sinclair’s would be passing this way at that particular moment in time, and to have a strange boat moored off the Head for hours or days would have aroused suspicion. At the same time, I agree with you, people just don’t disappear into thin air. No, there is something more sinister going on here.” Turning to his men Fergusson asked, “Does anyone know how deep those caves are over there or how far they go back into the cliff face?”

“I’ve heard they’re quite shallow and completely filled with water at high tide. Some people say that men have lost their lives taking shelter in them rather than trying to climb back up the cliffs. Some say the place is haunted.”

“Look the tide is coming in fast,” said Fred.

“In half an hour, this beach will be completely underwater, and we’ll be cut off. Please, Fergusson let us return home to our families before it’s too late,” he begged.

Fergusson looked at the incoming tide, and knew how dangerous it could be. The sea could be treacherous and unforgiving particularly to the unwary traveler. Many had been lured to the beach by the coal washed ashore from underwater seams. Greedy for the fuel and the money they hoped it would bring, they often fell asleep exhausted on the beach only to be awakened by the sea swirling around them. Scrambling towards the cliff, reluctant to abandon their valuable bounty, the weight heavy on their backs, the men would try to climb the cliff to escape, but many were unsuccessful and were swept away to sea.

Grudgingly, Fergusson looked up and down the shoreline, his legs apart, and his hands on his hips. “I hear what you say. It’s not wise to stay a moment longer and we can always come back when the tide is out. Next time, we’ll bring a larger contingent of men, torches and dogs and explore those caves over there,” he said with a sweep of his arm. “Madeleine Sinclair has to be here somewhere.”

Chapter 50

It was a fine spring morning as Catherine and Tom rode through the town gates of Stranraer. The journey from Eyam had been uneventful, but the plague ridden village had not been far from their minds. They had talked about the devotion and loyalty displayed by Reverend Mompesson, his family and those who decided to stay behind in an effort to contain the disease. “I still don’t understand how the disease has spread so far north,” said Tom. “After all, it’s usually rife in port towns and the surrounding countryside, but Eyam is so far inland. It’s a complete mystery, and I still don’t understand why the Reverend would sacrifice his family.”

The conversation always ended the same, with Catherine defending the Reverend’s decision. “You simply don’t understand,” she said. “His commitment to God and his people is so strong; he will go to any lengths to do what is right.”

“I know, I know, I’m a stupid man, but I would never, ever put someone I loved in danger, and that’s what he’s doing.” Tom shook his head. “What we’ll find when we return the carriage and horses, I dread to think.” He shuddered, “I keep checking myself for the lesions. They say you’re dead in three days from the onset of the plague. What about you Catherine?”

“I haven’t even looked. I’m in God’s hands.”

Tom shook his head and sighed, but did not say another word.

The town of Stranraer nestled in the crook of Loch Ryan was a hive of activity as people in carts and carriages called to each other excitedly and dogs ran around barking. Tom expertly and carefully maneuvered the carriage down the main thoroughfare of the town.

“I wonder if it’s usually this busy, or if there’s something special going on?” Tom said more to himself than Catherine.

Catherine pursed her lips and with a sullen expression said, “We’re here, that’s all I care about, and I want to stop at the very first inn we come to. I’m tired, hungry and I need to stretch my legs.”

“We will, we will, just point one out to me, and I’ll stop.”

She turned and looked into his eyes. “Sorry Tom, I was a little sharp with you, but I’m really at the end of my tether. Perhaps it’s the excitement of finally getting here, but I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that, it’s not fair. I apologize.”

“There is no need to apologize Catherine. By the way, look over to your right, will that one do?”

“Hmm, I know I said we should stop at the first inn we come to…but that one – well…it looks a little unsavory.”

“Perhaps this next one,” offered Tom nodding to another inn on the opposite side of the street, but Catherine merely shook her head. They were both getting more and more cross with each other and frustrated as Tom turned the carriage onto Bell Lane and found just what she was looking for. A neat, tidy inn, freshly painted with a new slate roof.

Outside, the innkeeper had placed benches and tables where men sat supping their ale in the afternoon sun.

“It gets better and better all the time,” murmured Tom when he saw a garland draped around the door post. “The innkeeper has brewed a new batch of ale. I can hardly wait,” he said rubbing his hands together eagerly licking his lips.

“It looks as though The Rose and Crown Inn will be the place for us to stay for a few days,” responded Catherine. No sooner had she said the words than Tom had leapt down, tied the reins to a nearby post and held his hand out to assist her. Swinging her bag from the back of the carriage, he held it in one hand and used the other on her elbow as he escorted Catherine into the inn.

The noise inside was almost as loud as that in

the street. “What’s going on?” inquired Tom of the innkeeper.

“Haven’t you heard? Where’ve you been, under a rock?” Tom ignored the slight and glanced over to Catherine to see if she had noticed his good behavior. She nodded and smiled to him as if she understood. “No, but you’re going to tell me aren’t you,” offered Tom sarcastically.

The innkeeper took great joy telling the young couple about the disappearances along the coast line, most recently along the stretch of road by Bennane Head. “I can’t believe you two young ‘uns don’t know about this…people have been disappearing left, right and center for years, and never once has there been a clue as to what happened to them until this very week. Now, new evidence has turned up,” he said looking over his shoulder at someone by the fire, “and our Baillie MacLeod is going to help! Imagine that! There is even talk that Baillie Fergusson in Ballantrae has written to his counterpart in Glasgow where the King’s men are billeted.

That’s how important this development is,” he said with pride.

He could see the young couple had no interest in his news and quickly changed the subject. “Do you have business here in town? May I direct you or help you in so way.”

Catherine spoke first. “Yes I do, and perhaps you can help us. My name is Catherine MacDonald and this is my traveling companion, Tom Black. I’m here searching for my mother, Margaret MacDonald and my family. The family’s name is Hamilton. My grandfather is Ross Hamilton.

Do you know the family?”

“I—I do indeed,” he replied cautiously. “My family is the Mackintosh’s of Stranraer. We’ve lived here for generations.” He seemed concerned and hesitated before continuing. “Perhaps you’d like to take a booth over there in the corner, Sister. If you’re who I think you are…I’m afraid I have some very bad news for you,” he said with a gentle smile.

Catherine stood for a moment in stunned silence until Tom took her elbow and guided her towards the booth, and they both slid into place. Staring ahead, Catherine eyes were wide open with fear. Unsure how to comfort her, Tom patted her hand gently and felt it trembling under his touch.

Mackintosh sat down opposite and placed the tankard he’d been drinking in front of him. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of such bad news, and there’s no easy way to tell you, but your family is gone. Your grandparents and their son, Walter was on their way to see a friend on the other side of

Loch Ryan when a sudden squall overturned their boat, and they all drowned. There’s no way to predict the weather – you understand, accidents happen all the time. Everyone who had a boat took to the Loch immediately and we searched for hours, but came back empty handed. Three days later they found them.” His voice became softer. “The only member of your family who survived is your Aunt Joan. She had stayed behind to play with a friend. Later, the family took Joan with them when they moved to Glasgow.”

Catherine had become deathly pale and very quiet and the men looked at each other. “It doesn’t get a lot better I’m afraid, and you’ll understand this is just hearsay...but I was told by some of the townsfolk that you mother returned later in that same year.” Catherine sat up with interest at the mention of her mother’s name.

“Did you see her?” Catherine’s voice was almost a whisper.

“I did not, but my mother did. After my mother told Margaret that her family had perished in the Loch, your mother was beside herself with grief, went as pale as a ghost and collapsed clear to the floor on hearing the news. It was such a shame, and her with child and all. I remember your father Catherine, he was a good man. To think he never saw his baby is a terrible shame.”

Catherine’s hands began to tremble as she clutched the satchel on her lap. Her eyes filled with tears.

“Please continue.”

“As I say, your mother was very distraught when she heard the news of her family, but when she heard her sister was still alive and living in Glasgow, she could hardly wait to leave. Some of the women in town tried to stop her, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She left, and we’ve heard nothing from her since.” He spread his hands out, palms up. “I wish I could have given you better news Sister.”

Catherine cupped her face with her hands. “I need to be alone. I need to be alone to think it all though.

Please Tom help me?” she begged.

“I will Catherine, just sit there for a moment and rest. Turning towards the innkeeper he said. “We’d like to stay here for a few days. Do you have rooms available?”

“I do indeed. Let me get the rooms ready, a fire and some food.” He looked down at Catherine, turned on his heels and left, grateful he had found something useful to do.

Tom helped Catherine outside and sat her down on one of the benches again the wall. “Just give me a little time,” Catherine murmured. I’ll come back inside soon.”

She rocked back and forth as she tried to calm herself. Quietly and thoughtfully she began mapping out the sequence of events as they had been presented to her. Dismally, she remembered the conversation with the leper in the he graveyard. Her mother had not been ill, as she originally thought, but rather was expecting a child – a child that did not belong to her husband. That would explain why she left me behind, thought Catherine miserably. She would have a difficult time traveling such a long distance with a young child, and also expecting another. She must have decided to return to the bosom of her family in Stranraer to have the baby. Perhaps she planned on pretending she was with child before the attack. Have no fear mother – your secret will be safe with me thought Catherine.

Catherine could hardly absorb the information fast enough. Her mother had been expecting a child when she left Essex. Then who was the father of the child? Had the child survived the journey? If so, where was it? Had her mother continued on to Glasgow and was now reunited with her sister? As soon as one question was answered, another took or two took its place. She took a deep breath and marched inside the inn. Tom looked up as she entered. He had a worried look on his face.

Chapter 52

Murdoch the pawnbroker expected his business to be slow over the winter months, but not this bad.

Dismally, he counted the day’s takings. “Only two shillings, four pence and three farthings,” he said aloud. “That’s barely enough to keep me in ale – let alone food. If I carry on like this for much longer; I’ll have to close shop. His mind wandered back to the magnificent watch he had bought in the autumn.

He turned to his bureau and unlocked the drawer. Almost reverently, he picked up the pouch. The watch felt heavy in his hands. Worth a small fortune, he thought.

Tomorrow, I’ll go to Stranraer and sell the watch. It’ll be market day with lots going on. I’ll just blend in with the crowd. They’ll be lots of young girls plying their trade too. He smiled to himself.

Thoughts of the watch reminded him of the beautiful girl with the long black hair, and dark, piercing eyes.

He had hoped he would see her again, and that she would bring him another quality piece of merchandise, but she had not and he had not seen her since. Others had come in over the winter months, including a dim witted boy – oh well, he had the watch, and hoped to make a tidy profit and make up for the lack of business.

He sighed as he thought of the day ahead. He always liked to visit Stranraer. The town brought him to life, if only for a day. After his transaction, he would visit the Rose and Crown Inn where he would enjoy a mug or two, have a good meal and perhaps a good woman. There were plenty to have, the streets teemed with them. He would find a good one and may even spend the whole night with her using some of the money he would get from the watch. He sighed and went

to sleep.

At first light, Murdoch finished the last of yesterday’s bread and drank half a tankard of stale ale.

Collecting the pouch from his drawer, he placed it inside his coat pocket and buttoned it up safely. Next he put a few coins in his pocket and locked the door of his shop as he stepped onto the cobbled street of Ballantrae. Whistling to himself, he set off in the direction of Stranraer. It would be a long walk and he would not arrive much before noon, but that would be fine, the walk would do him good.

After about three miles his legs ached and his whole body hurt. What was he thinking? When was the last time he had walked from Ballantrae to Stranraer, a year or two perhaps. What a dolt. He was more out of condition than he imagined and the extra weight he had accumulated over the winter had not helped – just then he heard the wheels of an approaching coach.

With a loud, “Whoa,” the coach driver pulled the team of horses to a standstill next to the overweight merchant.

“What ails you sir, you look quite unwell.”

“No, I’m merely finding it hard to catch my breath. The weather has turned unseasonably warm and caught me unawares. But since you’ve stopped, do you by any chance have room for me on board?”

The driver looked down dubiously at the rotund traveler. “There’s no room inside, but you could ride up top with me. It’ll cost you.”

“Have no fear my man, I have money on my person,” said Murdoch as he struggled to pull a few coins from his pocket. “What’s your price?”

The coach driver shrugged nonchalantly.

“That will be two pennies please.”

“Tuppence – tuppence,” yelled Murdoch.

“Why that’s daylight robbery. You’re only taking me few miles.”

“Take it or leave it. It’s up to you,” responded the coach driver.

Reluctantly, Murdoch climbed up the steps of the coach, dropped two pennies into the gloved hand of the driver, and fell down heavily next to him.

“We’ll be in Stranraer soon. Sit back and relax. You look as though you need to rest. What takes you to town?”

“Just doing some business and I may also visit a friend,” he replied offering no more.

The driver remained silent for a while but it had been a long journey from Glasgow and he was glad for a companion and a chance to gossip.

“Are you from Ballantrae, sir?” Murdoch was silent. The driver continued. “The reason I ask is because the whole town is in an uproar about these disappearances and it seems new evidence has turned up. I wonder if, after all this time, we’ll get to the bottom of it.”

Murdoch yawned to feign his boredom, but the driver continued. “Evidently, six months ago, September I think it was, a man disappeared and has never been found since. Then two days ago, a woman was taken right in front of her husband in broad daylight too. Can you imagine such a thing? What’s the world coming to eh? The man survived the attack because his horse bolted, but the story he told is almost too unbelievable to be true. He could have made the whole thing up as far as I’m concerned. It’s hard to believe that a horde of people six or seven strong attacked his wife. He said they appeared to be tearing at her flesh,” the coachman shuddered as he relived the tale.

“He said there was nothing he could do at the time, but now says he will do anything to find out what happened to his precious wife. Everyone’s fired up and Baillie Fergusson is so concerned that he’s written a letter, which I’m carrying I might add, to the Baillie in Stranraer asking him for his help.” Murdoch half closed his eyes to indicate he no longer wanted to listen to the gossip, but still the driver continuing his story.

“Such a shame, they were a good family the Sinclair’s, just like the MacPherson family. They haven’t found him either. I hear MacPherson’s wife has just died; it must have been a terrible shock for her. I understand she wasn’t a strong woman to begin with...and to hear nothing of her husband all these months.”

At the mention of MacPherson’s name, Murdoch went pale and his hands began to shake. The action did not go unnoticed by the coachman.

“You look quite ill. In fact, you’ve gone the

most awful color. You’re not going to be sick are you? Why, you’ve gone quite green around the gills. I can stop for moment if you’d like - no point in making yourself ill you know. Sometimes, these coaches can do that, make you queasy – it’s similar to being on the sea I’ve heard. Perhaps you don’t have your sea legs,” he said with a chuckle. “Well, what do you want me to do? Stop the coach or keep going?”

“I want you to stop the coach immediately,” said Murdoch. He stood up and steadied himself on the side rail before almost falling down the steps to the ground.

A passenger popped his head out of the coach window. “What’s going on? Why are we stopping again?”

“It’s nothing, it’s nothing,” Murdoch called with a wave of his hand. “You can keep my fare; it is only right and proper. It’s not your fault I’m unwell. I shall walk the rest of the way to town.”

“Well thank you kindly sir. I’m only sorry we didn’t get the opportunity to talk a little more,” said the driver.

He clicked his tongue and his team pulled away.

As soon as the coach disappeared from view, Murdoch staggered to the side of the road, and fell heavily to the ground.

“Trust my bloody luck. Just when I hoped I’d make a little profit,” he said aloud. “Not only did I pay out good money that I will never see again, but now I’ll be unable to sell the damn watch. Good grief, I could be charged with receiving stolen property and worse yet, the authorities may think I was involved in disappearance of MacPherson. No, that would never do.”

It was all too much. He had been dealt a blow, and he knew it was a bad one at that. He considered flinging the watch into the woods and pretending he had never seen it, but his natural greed argued strongly against that action. No, he would come up with a plausible story if he were caught with the watch in his possession. Why, he could even say he’d found the watch on the trail and had come straight to Stranraer to return it to its rightful owner. He stood up, brushed himself down and with a new, purposeful stride, started out once again for Stranraer.

Chapter 52

Murdoch almost fell through the door at the Ship and Shovel Inn. His whole body hurt, and he did not realize how hungry he was he smelled the food. The innkeeper smiled to himself when Murdoch plunged into his pocket and pulled out his purse. Carefully selecting a sixpence, he held it for the innkeeper. “Please take this and bring me some food and a tankard of your excellent brew. But pray tell me first, in what direction can I find the Baillie?”

“The Baillie,” asked the innkeeper in surprise.

“Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“No, not at all – I simply have some personal business I need to sort out. After I finish my meal, perhaps you can send me in the right direction, if it’s not too much trouble.”

The innkeeper returned with food and ale and placed it in front of Murdoch. He gulped it down greedily, and asked for a refill. The landlord returned with a second tankard. Murdoch licked his lips when he saw the head on the ale. “Thank you my man. You do a good job of brewing. I’ll say that for you.” The innkeeper smiled and placed it on the table.

Murdoch gulped the drink down quickly and stood. “That really hit the spot – just what I needed. Now I must get going.”

They stood in the doorway of the inn as the innkeeper gave directions to the Baillie. “Go down this road until you come to a crossroad, then turn right, then first left and walk for a few minutes. You’ll find the Baillie on the left hand side of the street. It’s a stone building with a sign on the door. You can’t miss it.”

“Thank you. Thank you kindly for your help,”

murmured Murdoch as he turned away. He did not see the innkeeper place a finger to the left side of his nose, and nod to a man loitering across the street.

Murdoch felt so much better than he had on his arrival. With food and the landlord’s excellent ale in his stomach, he had made the decision to tell the Baillie a lie.

While sitting in the inn, he had thought his story through carefully. He would say he had found a watch on the way to town. Then, when he got to town, the innkeeper at the Ship and Shovel told him about Glen Macpherson. What a coincidence he had found the watch. He decided to be a good citizen and return it to the man’s family. Yes, that was a good plan and one that held water.

Happy he had finally decided what to do; he began humming to himself as he walked down the road. Life was not so bad really; he had his health and his little shop.

Who knows, as word got around of his charitable deed today, his business might actually improve. He would have to be careful in future. The coach driver had mentioned that the Baillie’s were in cohorts. He had not known that before – that was a piece of valuable information.

He was almost at the end of the street and turned towards the right when the man struck. Murdoch took a blow to the side of his head that left him stumbling backwards and forwards until he fell to his knees. It all happened so quickly, he could hardly believe what was going on. Never in all his years had he been attacked. He was always careful at his shop and locked the door, even if he only stepped in the back for few moments. He reached up and felt the blood running down his face. The warm blood oozed through his fingers and made him sick to his stomach. All the while, he was aware someone was searching through his coat and trousers. The watch! He had to protect the watch. He tried desperately to claw at the man’s face, but appeared to have no control over his arms or legs.

He could feel the man systematically going through every single pocket in his trousers and coat, and he could do nothing to stop him. He suspected something had been put into his ale because he had not drunk so much as to render him helpless. An elderly couple turned the street corner and the thief gave Murdoch a final shove. “Git off me you drunken bastard!” he said as he kicked Murdoch in the ribs.

“Drunks,” shouted the man to the onlookers. “What’s this

town coming to, eh? You can’t even walk down the street without being accosted!� The couple nodded and kept their eyes downcast. They crossed the street quickly without looking back and disappeared from view.

Murdoch lay on the ground moaning. He thought his attacker had gone but he could not be sure. What had he done to deserve such treatment? He thought. He rolled over on his side and patted his pockets with his bloodied hands. He knew before he searched himself that he had been robbed of everything. The robber had taken the loose change in his pocket, his coin purse and most of all – the watch.

Slowly, he pulled himself on to his knees and then stood shakily supporting himself in a doorway. The blood still ran down his face and a large ugly bruise appeared on his temple, but now he was steaming with anger. He staggered forward more determined than ever to find the Baillie’s office and report what had happened.

Just then, a young boy appeared out of nowhere. “What’s up with you then?” he asked “You been rumbled mate?”

“Rumbled? Do you mean robbed? You stupid little idiot, yes I’ve been robbed. Do you think I did this to myself? I need to get to the Baillie? Anyway, why do you care?”

“Well I don’t really, but if you give me a penny, I’ll take you there myself.”

“A penny, I don’t have a bleeding penny. I don’t even have a halfpenny. My attacker took it all.”

Murdoch said with anger and then softened his voice.

“I have friends here in town who will give me some money. Now, please help me?”

“Well, that’s more like it I must say,” said the boy. “My name’s Johnny.”

Murdoch tried desperately to keep up with the little urchin who ran ahead of him. “Hold up a moment,” he cried. “I’m an old man. Slow down for goodness sake!”

Moments later, he staggered into the Baillie’s office holding a bloodied handkerchief to his head.

“What on earth happened to you?” asked Baillie MacLeod. “Take the weight off your feet and tell me all about it?” The urchin began explaining what had happened and he was quickly silenced by the Baillie’s hand. “Let the man speak Johnny. He is not so badly off that he can’t speak for himself.”

Murdoch took a deep breath and explained the reason for visit to the city. He told MacLeod he had set off early in the morning to see an old friend in Stranraer. On the way, he came across a very fine gold watch, just laying there on the ground. He had picked it up and turned it over in his hands and saw the engraving. On entering the town he heard the news of the missing man, and thought it best to do his civic duty by returning the watch to the rightful party.

The Baillie listened intently to the story and glanced occasionally at Johnny who rolled his eyes in disbelief. “So, let me get this straight,” said the Baillie. “You said you found the watch on the trail as you walked to Stranraer to visit a friend. Is that right? What business is your friend in by the way?”

“His name is Ambrose Brodie. He’s a pawnbroker by trade.”

“Ah, I see. And what of you – what is your occupation or trade in Ballantrae?” Murdoch could see that MacLeod had carefully laid a trap for him, but he kept to his tale nonetheless.

“I too am in the pawnbroker trade, and know the importance of returning a prized possession to its rightful owner,” offered Murdoch without the slightest embarrassment. Baillie MacLeod looked intensely into Murdoch’s eyes just as the office doors burst open. In walked the coach driver waving a letter in the air.

“Why, I didn’t think I would see you again so soon traveler,” he said looking at Murdoch. “What happened to your face? I knew I shouldn’t have left you on the trail.

Were you attacked by footpads?”

“You obviously know this man,” said MacLeod.

“Well, only for a short while, I came across him on the way here and he accepted a ride but then became sick and had to step down. Are you feeling better, apart from your head that is?” he said with a wicked chuckle.

Murdoch held his head in his hands and did not answer. The Baillie turned his attention to the coach driver. “What do you have for me today James? Looks like a letter. Hand it here if you please?”

MacLeod broke the seal and read the contents.

“Good news,” he said aloud. “It looks as though there’s been progress in solving these damned disappearances. There’s been another attack, just two days ago, but this time there are clues.” He waved the letter in the air. Baillie Fergusson has asked for my help. The latest incident happened close to Bennane Head. It seems that particular stretch of coastline is where most of the disappearances and robberies took place.

But what did the robbers do with the loot? They would have to dispose of it somewhere? He looked accusingly at Murdoch.

So there it was, now completely out in the open for all to hear. Murdoch became red and flustered as he tried to explain. “I never did anything wrong, I swear it!

Many, many people enter my shop selling their family heirlooms. Sometimes they even return the following month to buy their items back as their finances improve. I never ask any questions – you know the old saying ‘ask no questions, get told no lies’ that’s one of my policies,” he said with a weak smile.

“Are you telling me you didn’t buy Glen MacPherson’s watch? Tell me the truth now man.”

The question was so pointed that Murdoch had to respond truthfully. “Well, to be honest, yes I did…but I would never have bought it if I’d know where it had come from – honest I wouldn’t. When the coach driver here told me the news, I was so scared I concocted the story of finding it on the trail. I swear to you, in the beginning, I thought the young woman who brought the watch into my shop may have been a relative of the rightful owner. I gave her a tidy sum of money, five guineas to be honest. Money I will never see again I might add. I tried to do the decent thing and come directly to Stranraer to hand the watch over to you. I had a quick meal at the Ship and Shovel inn and on the way here, I was robbed of everything, including the damn watch.” He said miserably.

“And that’s the truth! I swear to it!”

All was silent in the room for a while until MacLeod spoke. “Well, I believe your story, up to a point, but I have more important things on my mind now. You are free to leave Murdoch but I suggest you visit the doctor in the

High Street and let him take a look at that head wound. It looks bad to me. I know where I can find you if I have questions. My business with you can wait until a better time.�

“I understand,” said Murdoch as he turned to leave.

“I’ll come with you if you like,” said Johnny.

“We wouldn’t want you to get into more trouble now would we?” Murdoch just nodded his approval, held on to the door frame as he stumbled into the bright afternoon light, his new companion at his side.

“Take me to the Rose and Crown Inn,” said Murdoch. “The landlord knows me. I’ll be safe there.”

Chapter 53

MacLeod and the coach driver looked at each other after Murdoch left and smiled to each other. “Well, what do you make of that? Do you believe his story?” asked the coach driver.

MacLeod slapped his leg laughing. “Not one word. What does he take me for...a damn fool? But he’s the least of my worries at present. Will you take a seat James and let me draft a letter to Baillie Fergusson. Then you can take it by return mail.”

The coach driver settled into a large chair by the fire, stretched and crossed him legs. You know, I had a funny feeling about that man when I picked him up on the road. I’ve seen plenty of men like him over the years. I tried to get him talking, but he’d have none of it. He clammed up immediately when I asked about his business in town and then when I mentioned MacPherson’s name. Well, I thought he was going to be sick right there in my coach. All that nonsense about finding the watch on the trail...I bet he came up with that little nugget to get himself off the hook. I believe him about the attack though, don’t you? He looked well and truly dazed even when I arrived. I suppose you’ll be watching the Ship and Shovel Inn from now on won’t you Baillie?”

“No doubt about that at all. In fact, he’s not the first to complain about being accosted soon after leaving that particular inn. I tell you James, I need eyes in the back of my head to catch these villains. It’s almost impossible to do it all, and I have precious few men to help me. However, I’m glad to say that several have stepped forward for the search along Bennane Head, so I can’t complain. If only we could put an end to these disappearances – that would go a long way to making me happy.”

Writing as quickly as he could, he told Fergusson he had mustered as many men as possible and they would leave as soon as possible. Pouring the hot wax onto his letter, he pressed his seal in place and waved the letter back and forth to cool it down. Handing it to the coach driver he said. “I’ll not hold you up a second longer. You’ve had a long journey this day.”

James leaned forward and took the letter.

“Thank you. I’ll deliver it when I pass through Ballantrae on my way to Glasgow tomorrow. If our business is over and done with this evening MacLeod, I’m off to get my horses stabled and fed. Come to think of it, I’ll do likewise for myself,” he said with a chuckle.

“Where will you be spending the night?” asked the Baillie.

“Why, the cheapest place in town of course, The Nag’s Head inn along with all the other rouges and ruffians. You’ll find me there if you need me. Good night to you Baillie.”

“Just hold on a moment James. I’ve just had a thought. Since you travel back and forth up the coastline, would you mind keeping an eye open for anything that looks a little unusual? You know, just like the situation with Murdoch. You almost knew before I did that something was amiss with the man. Please, if you don’t mind, will you please keep your eyes open and report back to me?”

“Of course,” responded James and turned on his heels and was gone.

He made his way down Bell Lane and stooped in to look in the window at the Rose and Crown. The place was full of life. A large fire roared in the fireplace and he could see a man with a knife crouched nearby splitting horse chestnuts and kicking them into the hot coals. His mouth watered, and he hesitated for a second wondering if he could afford a night when the door burst open and a young man with fair hair and red cheeks stepped around him. “Excuse me,” said the young man politely.

James followed the young man down the lane and watched as he turned towards the stables. On his arrival, he saw the man give some coins to the Hugh, the owner, and then step towards a very fine pair of stallions that he stroked with affection. The horses were almost jet back in color, well fed and well cared for. His curiosity piqued and he wondered how such a young man had come into the possession of such a fine team. Perhaps he was a stable boy performing his last duty of the day. He nodded to the young man. “I’m sure I just saw you at the Rose and Crown.” Nodding towards the

horses, “They’re an exceptional team I must say.”

“Aren’t they,” responded Tom hurriedly pulling his gloves on. “I’m very fortunate to have them.”

“You’re not from around these parts,” asked the coach driver, “from down south somewhere if I’m not mistaken.”

“You have a good ear sir. Yes, Essex to be precise. I’ve escorted a traveling companion from Essex to Scotland. Sister Margaret MacDonald. Do you know the family?”

“I can’t say that I do, but I’m glad to make your acquaintance. What did you say your name is?”

“I didn’t – but its Thomas Black.” Tom extended his hand. “It’s been a long journey and it’s not over yet. I’ve escorted Sister Catherine all the way from Essex. We were loaned the team and carriage from the Reverend Mompesson in Derbyshire. Excuse me sir, but I promised to take good care of them.” He picked up a brush and began brushing the horses.

“And quite right too. Goodnight to you, young man.”

James attended to his own team of horses and thought about the young man long after he had left the stables.

He would have sworn on the Bible he had seen the letter T branded in the man’s palm. Still, short of asking him to remove his gloves, he could not prove it one way or the other, and surely a woman of the cloth would not be traveling with a thief.

On the other hand, he had promised the Baillie he would be watching for anything out the ordinary, and he intended to do just that.

Chapter 54

A few days earlier, the outlaw Sawney Bean stood watching from the shadows of the cave nervously rubbing his hands together. He had seen the tall man dressed in his fine clothes point toward the caves, and could only guess at what was being said. He knew if they had had more time, they would have investigated further. He shuddered at the thought. It had been a close call today and they had been lucky, but would they be as lucky again? His clan was getting larger, more difficult to control and increasingly greedy. How many times had they ignored his advice? But still, he understood. The winter had been hard with little food for the children who cried constantly, and everyone’s nerves were on edge.

Even so, he had tried to stop his men from attacking the couple when they entered the clearing, but the richness of the travelers’ clothes and their fine horse and carriage caused so much excitement, he could barely contain them. As they hid among the bushes, he told them it was foolhardy to attack the couple, but when the woman decided to walk away from the carriage briefly, they took advantage of the opportunity, and rushed at her. When would they learn? It was easier to attack a lone individual, preferably one on foot, overpower him, and retreat quickly; there was less risk that way. But they had not listened to him, and the man had escaped. He must have reached Ballantrae and alerted the authorities – otherwise, how would they have come so quickly?

They had barely enough time to bring their latest catch back home. She was heavier than she looked, and therefore more difficult to get down the cliff. But they had hurried, knowing the tide had already turned in their favor. If

they could get back to the cave in time, they would be safe.

He was embarrassed to admit, even to himself in the darkness of the cave, that he had not been much help. He tried to take command by issuing orders to his men as he grabbed the woman under her arms, but she was too heavy for him.

Instead of helping, he fell backwards under the strain, and let the woman’s head smash again the rocks as they climbed down the cliff. Fuming with anger, one of the younger men screamed at Sawney and pushed aside spitting and cursing.

“You stupid old bastard – get out the way old man. You’re worse than useless. Why don’t you take a branch and cover our tracks – if you think you can handle that?”

He groaned aloud as he relived the moment.

He had been humiliated in front of the clan and it was almost too much to bear. Bile rose in his throat and he spat it out. He knew he would have to deal with this new challenge to his authority, but that could wait for the time being. For now, they were safely in their underground hiding place, and the tide would come in and provide a natural defense, at least for a few hours.

He watched the men turn away from the beach and heard them climb the cliff. As he stood waiting for someone to appear with a torch, he allowed his mind drift back to the beginning of the clan, his clan. Women had been the curse of his life, first Agnes, then Margaret and finally, Alice. He marveled at how quickly their lives had changed over the last six months. In fact, that was the turning point; everything seemed to go wrong after Margaret died. He would wake in the middle of the night, soaked in sweat terrified of the monsters who had woken him, and he would go to her and she would hold him, sooth him, and make the demons disappear. But that would never happen again.

Sawney wondered, not for the first time, if he should step down. He would get his clan through this crisis, take his share of the money, and he and Agnes would leave the cave. They would find a nice cottage along the coastline somewhere. He would fish and Agnes would have a garden, pigs and chickens and they would enjoy a new life together in the sunshine rather than hide in the cold, dark cave that had been their home for so long. His old bones craved the warmth of the sun, but even as the thought of leaving came to his mind, he doubted it would ever happen.

It had not been all bad. For years, the clan muddled along. Children were born to the group, some lived and some died. It did not seem to matter much to the women; they showed no remorse or unhappiness for their loss knowing they would have another in a year or so. The grunts and groans of his men who went from one woman to another satisfying this lust during the night could be heard by all.

Father to daughter – brother to sister, it did not matter.

Knowing it was wrong, he had tried to stop it in the beginning if only to curb the size of the clan. But it was no use; they grew in size as did their appetites. They were lucky to have a fresh supply of water that seeped into the cave, but the constant demand for food worried Sawney, and he suspected it would be their ruin.

Finally, he could see the faint glow of a torch in the distance getting brighter and brighter and he knew someone was approaching. It was Robert, his son.

Sawney could barely control his anger. He lunged at Robert grasping him round the neck and he squeezed hard. Robert began to choke, his words came in gasps.

“Please father – I’m sorry! We should’ve listened to you. I’m sorry,” he begged.

Sawney slung his son aside in disgust and the boy fell heavily on the ground. “There’s nothing you can say that’ll help Robert.” Sawney responded angrily. “How many times have I told you it’s safer and easier to take one person and better yet...someone who’s on foot?”

Robert hung his head in shame.

“Well, you’re a stupid little bastard then aren’t you? I’m so angry at you – I could crack your head open. You didn’t see the men who came looking for that woman. There were more than six or seven men in the group, and had it not been for the tide turning, they would have searched the caves this very day. They’ll be back, trust my word.”

He looked down at his son who stared back in fear. Holding out his hand, he pulled him to his feet.

“What’s done is done, enough of this, I’m tired and hungry. Let’s get back to the others.”

Robert held his torch high in the air and not one word was spoken as they entered the ink blackness of the cave. The light from the torch danced on the walls turning their physical shapes into monstrous silhouettes. The only sound that could be heard was the occasional drip, drip of the water as it fell into shallow pools. Before long, they could hear the low mumblings of voices, jabbering of the children, and the odd screech of laughter from one or two of the women. A warm orange glow at the back of the cave gradually manifested itself into a large blazing fire that crackled and spat off sparks in every direction.

Around the fire, men, women and children either stood or sat cross legged on the ground. Some women suckled babies to their breasts as naked toddlers crawled back and forth. The clan watched in silence as their leader approached. They braced themselves for the onslaught, but none came. Instead Sawney Bean yawned and stretched his arms saying, “I’m so tired and hungry…I could eat a horse.”

The sound that came from the group began as a low guttural chuckle, and developed quickly into a fully fledged scream of laughter. The noise filled the cave and echoed in the cavern as his people pushed and shoved each other in raucous delight at their leader’s black humor.

Sawney looked around his clan as they crouched by the huge fire blazing in the center of the cavern.

A large black pot hung from a tripod over the fire, the water boiling noisily. As the clan moved around the fire, their images danced off the walls, eerie, ominous shapes that reminded him of the monsters in his dreams. He knew they would come back to visit him this night. The thought petrified him.

He could feel the excitement building in the group. Fresh meat – he could hardly blame them. They were hungry, had been for days. There was little in the barrels to fill their needs. They had sucked the marrow from the bones and even drank some of the aspic, but it had not satisfied them. Most were salivating, wiping their mouths with the backs of their hands as they anticipated their meal.

Sawney shook his head slightly as he surveyed the group. They looked more like animals than human beings,

with their blood stained faces and clothing. Their black, broken teeth and thick greasy hair hung in clumps over their shoulders. Those men will be back – mark my words thought Sawney again. He walked around the fire, touching a child here and there on the head. In turn, they looked up at him and smiled. He was their leader and protector and he would do his best to take care of them, but an overwhelming feeling of fear flooded over him as he looked down at the woman who had been taken this morning. She lay not six feet from where he stood, naked as the day she was born. Agnes emerged from the darkness, a large knife in her hand, and the group cheered.

Chapter 56

Catherine pushed the door to the inn open and saw Tom sitting where she had left him. He stood up as she approached. He watched her face carefully trying to determine her mood. Her eyes were swollen and red, and she kept dabbing at them with her handkerchief. She slumped down on the bench and stared at the table. Tom reached across and put his hand on her arm. He was not sure what to say or do, so he remained silent.

“Now, now, now,” said a man who walked up to their booth. “What could be so bad as to bring on those tears?”

Catherine looked up to see a short, stout man in a stained yellow waistcoat standing before her. He had a large bruise to the side of his head and wisps of grey hair protruding from his grubby periwig. His nose ran and his bulging eyes were rheumy and watchful. Catherine fixed her eyes on him, and the man stepped back in surprise. “Oh my God, is it really you?” he said with a gasp.

Tom immediately stood and stepped protectively between the man and Catherine. “Watch your tongue my man,” he scowled. “This is Sister Catherine MacDonald whom I’m sure you have never set eyes on until this very moment.”

Murdoch dropped his gaze to Catherine’s habit. “My apologies Sister – I got you mixed up with someone else. Someone I’ve known for a long time. The likeness is uncanny.”

Catherine wiped her eyes and with steady voice she said, “As a child I lived in Scotland. Perhaps you know my family.”

The man’s mouth gaped open in astonishment.

“Oh my goodness, you have the same timbre to your voice too? Surely you must be kin to the person I know.”

Catherine quickly whispered in Tom’s ear.

“Honestly, I don’t think I can take anymore but what is this man knows my mother? Perhaps I should hear what he has to say. What harm can it do?”

Catherine cleared her throat and addressed the man directly. “Sir, as my companion said, I am Sister Catherine MacDonald and please let me introduce my companion, Tom Black. We arrived here this afternoon looking for my mother, Margaret MacDonald.”

“I knew it. I knew it. I swear I know your mother. Unfortunately I haven’t seen her for a while, but I’m sure I know her. My apologies to you Sister, Jim Murdoch.”

He bowed slightly.

“How do you know my mother?”Catherine asked as she dropped the cloak from her shoulders.

Murdoch hesitated just for a second and looked at Tom, but Catherine urged him on.

“Well, well – it’s a little bit awkward.”

“Awkward, what do you mean awkward? I’m sure what you have to say couldn’t be worse than the news I’ve just received.”

“I think this may take some time, and you may not like what you’re about to hear,” murmured Murdoch as he slid into the booth. He took his time and chose his words carefully. The Sister’s eyes were swollen and she obviously had been crying. He was fearful his news would bring on a whole new flood of tears.

“I first set eyes on her, forgive me but she never told me her name, about fourteen or fifteen years ago.

She came in regularly to my shop over the years selling the odd pieces of jewelry, sometimes a brooch, earrings, a ring or a man’s pocket watch.” He paused for a moment so Catherine could grasp the implications of what he was saying.

Catherine stared coldly into Murdoch’s eyes.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m really not saying anything at all except in my experience, it’s unusual for any one person to bring in so many different pieces of merchandize of different value and quality unless something untoward is going on. In any event, I hadn’t seen her for some time, and I was wondering what had happened to her when all of a sudden this nice young girl came in to my shop. I suspected they were from the same...”

Murdoch did not finish his sentence. “Anyway, she was just a little thing, and quite young. Black haired beauty she

was‌very nervous and skittish.� Murdoch shifted uncomfortably in his seat, took a deep breath and continued.

“She kept looking at the door as though she expected someone to burst in at any moment. She didn’t spend but a minute before we struck a deal. After that, she rammed the money into her blouse and took off running. She threw the door open with such force, she very nearly knocked the bells off their hooks. She was gone in a split second. The other strange thing and I’d swear on the Bible to this, she was wearing the tortoiseshell combs I had given the older woman just weeks earlier. I can tell you...that sale has well and truly got me into trouble. I bought a watch from her and paid good money for it too – now I find out the watch belonged to the man the Baillie’s searching for…you know the one who disappeared?”

Catherine’s mind was reeling. There can’t possibly be any connection to my mother she thought. But facts were facts. The pawnbroker had described Alice right down to the tortoiseshell combs, the very combs she herself had placed in Alice’s hair after she had readied her for burial.

Catherine brought her hand to her mouth in an effort to suppress any sound. She stood quickly and walked over to the fireplace where she sat for several minutes staring into the flames. After a while she returned to the booth.

“If what you tell me is true,” said Catherine guardedly, “you’re insinuating my mother is somehow involved with selling stolen property. Do I understand you correctly?” Murdoch gulped and looked to Tom for help, but Tom looked away.

“All I’m saying is that your mother often brought in merchandize I suspected was not her own. When you meet up with her, you can ask her yourself. I’m not going to say another word on the matter. I’m already up to my neck in the whole thing and I wouldn’t have bought the watch in the first place if I’d known.”

Tom rolled his eyes.

“Oh, I can see you don’t believe me, but let me finish,” said Murdoch. “When I found out the watch had been stolen, I came to Stranraer immediately to tell the Baillie and hand the watch over to him but unfortunately I was robbed on the way,” he said putting his hand to his bruised head, “but that’s a whole new story. Anyway, Baillie

MacLeod was most appreciative of the information and said it might help him find those responsible for the robberies. He and his men are riding to Ballantrae in the next few days to help Baillie Fergusson look for the culprits.�

Catherine watched the pawnbroker’s face with interest. He appeared to be telling the truth, but there was something about him that made her feel uncomfortable. “I’m sure there’s a reasonable answer to all these things. I will ask my mother when I see her.”

Murdoch turned towards Tom and spoke out the side of his mouth. “Walk with me young man. There are things I need to tell you. Let’s go over to the fireplace where we’ll be out of earshot.”

Chapter 57

Murdoch looked towards Catherine. “I don’t want to upset the Sister any more than I have already, but there are some things you should know. Whether you decide to tell your companion what I am about to tell you is your decision, but please listen to my side of the story. I heard from the innkeeper that Sister Catherine had asked about her family. Everyone in the inn is talking about it. Of course, at the time, I had no idea there was any such connection, but when I set eyes on her... I’m telling you, I know for sure her mother is mixed up in this mess. She’s her mother’s daughter all right – my God, they even sound the same. Her mother and the young girl must have known each other in some capacity otherwise how would she have the combs? By the way, did you see the Sister’s reaction when I mentioned them? I foolishly gave them to the red haired lady, a minor discretion I might add, and either she, or someone she knew, gave them to the young girl. See, look at her now,” he said looking over to Catherine, “she’s piecing it all together as we speak. I dare say it won’t be long before she works it out for herself.”

“It was last September when the young girl brought the watch to my shop. From what I understand, that was roughly when MacPherson disappeared. Believe me; I didn’t know the man’s name until this very day. I tell you, this is all too much of a coincidence. I’m afraid Sister Catherine’s mother may be involved with some very, very bad people.”

Murdoch looked over to Catherine. “I’d bet my breeches her mother is mixed up in some way, but I’d like to help you if you’ll let me. I feel responsible knowing her mother and all…and besides, I’d like the opportunity to clear my own name too. I’m told the Baillie and his men leave for Ballantrae tomorrow or the next day. I may go with them. If

you’re going too, perhaps I can get a ride. It wouldn’t be a wasted journey; it’s on the way to Glasgow which, after the information the Sister received today will likely be your next destination.”

Catherine watched the animated conversation between the pawnbroker and Tom. They kept glancing over to where she sat and she wondered what they were saying. She considered her next move. She would continue her journey north, first to Ballantrae and then onwards to Glasgow if necessary to find her mother and aunt. She wondered if Tom would agree to go with her.

Her mind was still buzzing with the information she had been given. It was a tragedy almost too much for her to bear. Her grandparents and uncle were dead, and her mother and aunt were missing. On top of that...the ghastly little man had insinuated her mother was a thief, or at least associated with thieves. She wondered what the relationship had been between her mother and the young girl, and then it finally struck her like a thunderbolt.

“Oh my goodness,” she whispered, “It was Alice!”

Everything came together in a flash: Alice’s journey, the Bible, the lock of hair, now it all fell into place and the tears began to flow freely. Catherine thought back to Alice’s last few moments on earth. “Did you come for me Alice? Did you come for your sister and I failed you.”

Catherine thought her heart would break. “But why did you go the castle first? Why not the priory? Of course, of course, there was no need was there Alice? I came to you instead.”

Catherine closed her eyes, put her head on the table and sobbed.

It was all so obvious now. But how many people knew the truth? She remembered the secretive looks between Mother Superior and Sister Daphne; did they know her mother was expecting a bastard child? She recalled one of the last conversations with Daphne when she spat, “You really don’t know do you? You’re a stupid child!”

Stinging tears burned Catherine’s eyes as she tried to put the pieces of the puzzle together. She recalled the evening with the Earl of Essex and Father Benedict. Neither had said anything about a baby. Had they known about the child and simply decided not to tell her? Perhaps they did not know of her mother’s condition.

Tom and Murdoch looked over to Catherine as they supped their ale by the fireside. “I don’t know what she will want to do,” said Tom, “for all I know, she may want to return to the priory immediately.”

“She doesn’t strike me as a woman who gives up that easily,” responded Murdoch. “Why don’t we broach the subject and see what she says? I’ll tell you son, this has been one of the worst experiences of my life, and it’s not over yet. If we go to Ballantrae, may I suggest we leave the Sister here where it’s safe?”

“I cannot speak for her. I’ll let her alone this evening, and talk with her in the morning. She may be thinking clearer then. If you’ll excuse me sir, I have to see to the carriage and horses.”

The following morning was unseasonably bright and brisk as Tom stumbled outside the inn. Toby had been lying next to the door waiting expectantly. He stood immediately and walked forward. “Come with me you mutt while I go to the stables.” Toby wagged his tail and ran alongside Tom looking up at him, and together they walked down the street.

Catherine had been awake for many hours and now pulled the door of the inn open just a crack as she watched her two companions, once adversaries, walk comfortably together. She was joined at the door by the pawnbroker.

“That’s a fine dog – yours?”

“Yes, I suppose he is in a way.” She turned back inside avoiding any further conversation with the man.

When Tom returned from the stables, Catherine had returned to the booth where he had left her the previous night. Her eyes were still red and swollen from crying, and she trembled visibly. She greeted him with a tight smile. “I want to go to Ballantrae today. Will you come with me?”

“I thought you’d want to go. We’ve come this far, no pointing in stopping now. The pawnbroker, Murdoch has asked to accompany us. He lives in the town, knows the area and people. How do you feel about that?”

“You decide – I really don’t care one way or

the other.”

Tom met Murdoch coming down the stairs.

“Get your things together, we’re leaving after breakfast. I’ve just come from the stables, the Baillie and his men are expected to leave shortly. We could follow behind at a distance.”

“I’ll meet you outside,” muttered Murdoch.

As Tom was putting the bags in the back of the carriage, Murdoch nodded to Catherine sheepishly. “I’m most grateful for the ride back to Ballantrae and your kindness Sister Catherine.”

Catherine studiously ignored the pawnbroker other than giving a quick nod of her head.

With a click of his tongue Tom urged the team forward, and the trek to Ballantrae began.

“Actually,” muttered Murdoch over his shoulder, “I don’t know that I should be leaving Stranraer, but the Baillie knows where he can find me.”

Tom had barely unhitched the horses before they were met by groups of men in the street. Several men on horseback cantered back and forth looking important on their mounts as their hounds wove their way carefully around the horses’ hoofs. The atmosphere was thick with excitement.

Tom pulled the carriage over to one side and listened as the Baillie addressed his men.

“Listen up men. We have a very important mission ahead of us and one that may well be dangerous.”

The men looked at each other and murmured among themselves. “A troop of the King’s men should be on their way south to Ballantrae, we’ll meet up with them there. Do you have any questions?”

“We say that’s a good plan,” shouted one man.

“How many men shall we have overall do you think Baillie?”

“That’s hard to say.” Offered MacLeod, “but the more the merrier, eh men.” His comment brought a collective, “Aye” from his men who appeared eager to get going.

Tom, with Catherine at his side and Murdoch sitting in the carriage, maneuvered the horses carefully around the men and headed north to Ballantrae. They stopped awhile in the village of Cairnryan and looked out across Loch Ryan.

“It’s hard to believe my family died somewhere out there,” said Catherine miserably. “It looks as calm as a millpond today.”

“Oh believe me,” responded Murdoch, “I’ve seen it whip up in minutes. There’s no telling how it will

behave…” He did not finish his sentence. The quietness was shattered by the sound of horses’ hoofs and the baying of hounds as the Baillie and his men cantered past.

“We’d better get going,” said Tom as he undid the reins and jumped into the carriage. Murdoch held his hand out to Catherine to steady her as she climbed up alongside Tom. She accepted his help and then Murdoch took his place in the back of the carriage.

They continued the journey to Ballantrae without a word being spoken. When they entered the village of Ballantrae they were astounded at the sight before their eyes. Groups of men either stood around or sat on horseback waiting for the command to leave. Suddenly there was a commotion on the outskirts of the village as men shouted to each other.

“This must be the King’s men coming now – it’s about time, a few minutes more and we’d have left without them,” muttered Baillie Fergusson as he looked at the Baillie grumpily. The thunder of horses grew louder and louder until someone screamed.

Chapter 58

“It’s the King! It’s the King himself!” The cry was picked up by one and echoed by others as they ran alongside the King and his men. Everyone stopped what they were doing and stood in disbelief. Most fell to one knee as he rode by.

His sword at this side, King Charles II of England and Scotland sat majestically on his beautiful chestnut mare, his head held high as his subjects looked on in adoration. They were stunned to see him in person, that he had taken the time to bring his own men to help them in their hour of need. The King stood out in his magnificent coat of red velvet that draped over his horse’s rump. He wore black breeches and white stockings that were flecked with mud, and he wore black shoes with large, gold buckles. He sported a dark brown peruke with ringlets that hung to his shoulders.

On his head he wore a three cornered black hat edged in silk with a large white ostrich’s feather in the headband.

The king was eager to show the full extent of his power as he rode ahead of his men.

“I bring with me my very best men,” said the King proudly, “to aid in the apprehension and conviction of the person or persons responsible for the murderous acts that have plagued this coastline for years.”

“Your majesty, we had no idea you would come in person.” MacLeod and Fergusson bowed low to the King as he dismounted his horse.

“Please rise gentlemen. There is no need to stand on ceremony for there is serious work to be done. The coach bearing your letter to Baillie Gunn arrived at Prestwick from where we were about to march to Glasgow. As soon as I read about the heinous crimes committed hereabouts, I gave

the order to march south instead of north. What is the plan? I understand the latest attack took place close to Bennane Head.

We just rode past there and saw no activity of any kind. But the tide was in and we did not stop in our haste to get here in good time.�

Macleod spoke first. “Sire, the blood from the latest victim, a woman, led from the top of the cliff and down to the beach. There we lost the trail but our plan is to return today and be ready when the tide recedes so we can explore the caves along the coastline.”

The King walked his horse forward and turned to look at the Baillie. “How long do you think it will be before we leave? My men will want to rest their horses and have something to eat and drink before we depart.”

“I would say in about a two hours your majesty. We have food and drink for your men if you need it.

We didn’t anticipate so many men but we are pleased nonetheless your highness,” said Fergusson bowing once more to his King.

“Fear not. We have more than enough food in the wagons at the rear, but I daresay my men would like a few tankards of your best ale,” said the King with a chuckle.

The King dismounted and followed MacLeod down the lane as villagers parted to let them through the crowd. The children’s mouths dropped open as the King and his first lieutenant passed by on their way to the Lamb and Fleece Inn. The innkeeper, Acliff greeted them at the door.

Wiping his hands on his linen apron, he clipped his heels together and bowed. “Welcome to my humble abode sire. I’ll see to it that the ladies of the village will serve ale to your men.”

As soon as the King was seated comfortably, Baillie Fergusson took the opportunity to view the King’s troops. He marched down the columns of men and estimated there were approximately thirty Horse Guards and twenty Foot Guards each dressed in their telltale red jackets and baggy breeches. Some wore breast and back plates; others wore short tassets guarding their thighs. Following up the rear were the Pikemen, formidable foot soldiers with pikes resting on their shoulders. Never in his life had he seen such a display of fierce men and armory, and he wondered if their situation warranted such a massive effort. At the very end of the procession followed the supply wagons containing food, weapons and the womenfolk who would cook and nurse those who might get injured.

MacLeod met up with Fergusson who was standing silently outside the inn. “Can you believe this?” muttered MacLeod. “I hope we’re deserving of so much attention.”

“Only time will tell,” responded Fergusson.

“Nobody can fault us. We’re doing everything we can to get to the bottom of the mystery and we have no less than the King himself willing to help. How can that be wrong?”

“I didn’t say it could be wrong. But we could all end up looking like fools, getting the King involved and all. In some ways, I wished we’d kept quiet and taken care of it ourselves.”

“Well, it’s too late for that now. Let’s just be grateful for the support.”

Chapter 59

As Catherine, Tom and Murdoch arrived in Ballantrae, they could not believe their eyes. The town was in absolute chaos as dogs barked and darted back and forth snarling at each other. They sat for a few moments in their carriage taking in the scene. Murdoch was the first to speak.

“I never expected to see so many people. Why, in all my years, I’ve never seen so much activity in town.”

Shall I go and see what’s happening Tom?” He climbed down from the carriage and looked up at them both. “I won’t be long; I’ll just go and see if I can get some information.” He slid off the back of the carriage and approached one of the soldiers.

“Aren’t they the King’s men?” he asked nodding in the direction of the contingent.”

“Yes, and not only that,” responded the man, “But the King himself is here sitting over at the Lamb and Fleece inn if you please drinking the landlord’s ale. Can you believe it? If I hadn’t seen it with my very own eyes...I would have not believed it myself.”

Murdoch rushed back to Catherine and Tom who were anxiously waiting in the carriage. “The King is here in Ballantrae. The whole town’s in an uproar. The Baillie said they plan to leave in an hour or two as soon as it’s low tide.

My shop is just up the road there, it would give me great pleasure if you would be my guests while we wait to see what happens.” Catherine looked at Tom for his decision but he nodded to her, “It’s up to you Catherine – I’ll do whatever you want to do.”

“Yes, all right – thank you. There’s no point in sitting here for the next hour or so.” Catherine whispered to Tom.

“We might just as well sit in your shop Murdoch – thank you,” said Tom.

The short ride to Murdoch’s shop was made in silence. On arrival, he pulled a chain and key from his waistcoat pocket, unlocked the door and flung it open with a flourish. The bells on the door rang loudly and continued to jingle for a while as Murdoch set two chairs close to the counter. Catherine sat down uncomfortably and looked about her.

“So this is it?” Catherine said almost in a whisper and both men looked nervously at her.

“Yes, welcome to my little establishment, my small shop.” Murdoch said with a little bow. “It’s not much I know, but it’s provided me with a living all these years.”

At first, Catherine had given the contents of the shop only a cursory look but now she studied it with interest. There hardly seemed to be a wall or table without some kind of merchandise to sell. In one corner sat a clothes horse holding various pieces of clothing, waistcoats, hats, scarves and silk handkerchiefs monogrammed with various initials. Murdoch’s counter doubled as a glass cabinet that obviously held the more valuable items. She stood and peered inside the cabinet. Necklaces, watches with magnificent hobs, bracelets and beautiful rings were for sale and Catherine wondered how many people had lost their most precious belongings to this shop. She looked into Murdoch’s eyes. He had been talking and she had not heard him.

“I’m sorry, I must have been daydreaming.

Please repeat what you were saying.”

Murdoch cleared his throat in readiness for what he was about to say. He knew it would probably cause unhappiness, but it had to be said.

“Your mother stood at this very counter you sit at today. The last time I saw her she looked very tired and I remember asking her if she was feeling ill, if she wanted to sit and rest a while, but she would not. I felt sorry for her, wanted to raise her spirits as it were...that’s why I gave her the pair of tortoiseshell combs. She didn’t say a word at first but then thanked me, put them in her purse and walked out the shop. I never saw her again.”

At the mention of the tortoiseshell combs again, Catherine paled and her head began to spin. Could it be

possible? Was her mother mixed up in some way? She was about to ask questions when a horn sounded nearby.

“That was quick. It sounds as if they are preparing to leave already,” said Tom. “Shall we watch them go?”

When they walked outside, the sight that greeted them was spectacular: the King dressed in all his splendor rode by followed by his first lieutenant and sergeant at arms. In succession came the Horse and Foot Guards closely followed by the Baillie of Stranraer, his men and then the Baillie of Ballantrae and his contingent. Following up the rear were the Pikemen and the dogs. The excited hounds were baying at the heightened activity and the command of their masters. It was all too much for Toby who, after running around and around in circles, took off after them.

“Toby, Toby. Come back,” Catherine called, but he would have none of it and simply kept running until he had caught up with the hounds. “Quick, let’s follow them.”

She grabbed her cloak and ran to the carriage. “Come on, hurry!” she called over her shoulder. “I don’t want to lose sight of Toby, besides, isn’t Bennane Head on the way to Glasgow?”

Tom caught the excitement in Catherine’s voice and he reached down for his jacket. “I suppose we’re going to Glasgow now.” He laughed loudly. “Come on, let’s go.”

Murdoch lumbered towards the carriage puffing, panting and mopping the sweat from his brow. “God almighty, are you both trying to kill me. You know what; I’m going to stay here. There’s no point in my coming. I’ll have to make my own way back to Ballantrae while you go on Glasgow.”

Tom waved to Murdoch as the carriage fell in line at the rear of the procession. The people of the town lined the streets clapping their hands and cheering as the spectacle passed.

Catherine spoke first. “Imagine, they will tell their children and grandchildren they watched their King and his men parade through the village of Ballantrae. It will be talked about for years.” She smiled openly at Tom and it warmed his heart.

“You have a beautiful smile Catherine. You

should do it more often.�

Catherine was quiet for a while. She was embarrassed by the compliment and secretly pleased, but unsure how to respond. She tried to control the blush that appeared on her neck and cheeks, but could not.

“I wonder how much longer before we get to the clearing at Bennane Head?” she asked.

“What’s the matter Catherine? Are you beginning to get anxious?” She noticed Tom had an uncanny way of reading her mind.

“Yes, yes I am. I’m scared my mother won’t be happy when she sees me; I’m scared she won’t want me and I’m scared to death that some of the things Murdoch has told me may be true! Dear God Almighty – what would I do then?”

Chapter 60

Sawney looked up towards the roof of the cave. At first, he thought it was thunder and then realized it was the pounding of what seemed like hundreds of horses’ hoofs.

“I knew it. I knew it – here they come,” he screamed at his clan. They looked at him wide eyed and petrified not fully understanding the fear and alarm in his voice. “Tully and Richard come with me, the rest of you start burning the clothes.”

Some of the younger children began to scream while the women wailed noisily.

“Stop that racket. We need to keep as quiet as possible. You’ll have to put your hands over your kids’ mouths when the time comes,” screamed Sawney. “If we’re discovered, all is lost. Do you hear me?” Do you hear me?”

There was sheer desperation in Sawney’s voice; they heard it and it frightened them to their core. They had never seen him behave in such a way. They had seen him angry, suspicious and jealous, but never scared. He had been their leader all their lives, and they trusted him. Most had never been outside the cave during daylight hours, not even for a moment, and panic spread quickly. Little groups formed as the women tried to comfort their children.

“Burn the clothes? You must be mad. We’ll need them.” One woman shrieked.

They mustn’t find those clothes here,” screamed Sawney. “Do as I tell you – now!”

“I think you’re over-reacting Sawney,” said Agnes nastily. “This will pass over, just like the other times, you wait and see.”

Sawney thrust his face close to Agnes. “Trust

me, if the sound of those horses is anything to go by…it’s just a matter of time. I don’t understand how they got so many men together so quickly, but I fear this is the end. If they enter the cave and find us, we may have to take things in our own hands.”

“What do you mean?” responded Agnes.

“You damn well know what I mean! Are you deaf as well as fucking stupid? Stop playing the bloody fool. I would rather slit the throats of the women and babies myself than have them suffer on the gallows for all to see.”

Agnes stared, “Oh my God, don’t ask me to do it – I can’t, I can’t!”

“You’ve lived outside; you know the penalty for what we’ve been doing all these years. I doubt there’d even be a trial. Even if we burn the clothes, there is no way to get rid of the barrels.” Sawney nodded towards several oak barrels that stood again the cave wall. He and his men had built those barrels years ago with their bare hands, and the barrels had served them well.

Scared into action, the women and older children scurried back and forth piling clothes on the fire. The stinking smoke filled the cavern. It stung their eyes and they could not control the tears that ran down their filthy cheeks.

The rivulets of tears washed away years of grime and soot from their faces as the piled the clothes higher and higher.

“Easy, easy,” screamed Tully, “let the fire burn – but you heard Sawney, nothing must be left.” The clan stared after him as he rushed off to help Sawney and Richard with the barricade.

Tully caught up quickly and the three men ran as fast as they could towards the entrance to the cave.

Looking around, they rolled the larger rocks towards the crevice and then began piling drift wood, broken boats and broken barrels, anything that had washed ashore. Their mood deteriorated rapidly the harder they worked and in the end, they were swearing and cursing at each other in anger.

“Don’t you say another fucking word to me,” spat Sawney. “You brought this on us Tully. If only you’d listened to me.”

The two men stood toe to toe spitting and cursing at each other.

“Please, please,” begged Richard, “let’s finish and get back…what’s done is done.”

Richard’s pleading seemed to bring the men to their senses. Sawney stepped back first and hissed, “I swear to God Tully, if we get through today, I’ll cut your tongue out and roast it over the fire while you watch. Now grab some more seaweed and pile it high – pile it as high as possible. It won’t stop them, but we have to try.”

The job done, they ran back to the clan. When they were almost to the cavern, Tully spoke in a hushed tone.

“I’m sorry Sawney, there’s no point in us fighting. But just know you can count on me to do what needs to be done. You can’t expect the women to kill their own kin, it’s just not right.”

“I know, I know,” said Sawney.

When they returned to the group the older boys and some of the women were still piling clothes on the fire. As they approached the back of the cave, the smell of the filthy, soiled clothes being burned filled their nostrils. The stench was almost too much to bear. A few women wailed and wrung their hands in terror as their children looked from one to the other not understanding the seriousness of what was happening to them.

Agnes turned to Sawney. Her voice was low and deep. “You know what? This is all your doing. If you hadn’t got me pregnant and brought me here in the first place, none of this would have happened.”

She raised her fist to him threateningly and he pushed her backwards.

“Don’t start with me woman. I’ve no time for you today.”

She jumped to her feet and rushed at him screaming obscenities. He pushed her effortlessly to one side but she came clawing at him yet again, her face distorted into a mask of anger and hate. This time, he threw her bodily against the wall and she screamed with pain.

The group became quiet and watched their leader. They had seen clashes between Agnes and Sawney before but nothing as bad as this. The confrontation brought gasps from the woman who cowered behind each other. The men watched in abject terror fearing Sawney would pounce on Agnes and kill her right there on the spot. But he did not.

Instead he stood over her and shook his head and said.”You’re a hateful bitch, Agnes. Always have been and always will be.”

Chapter 61

When Catherine and Tom arrived at Bennane Head, there was hardly room for their carriage. The clearing was approximately seventy-five foot long and forty foot wide with almost every square foot being used by a horse, cart or man.

The King raised his arm and the contingent stopped. Baillie Fergusson rode to the head of the procession and pulled a cloak from a saddlebag. “This is the cloak last worn by Mistress Sinclair. With your permission Sire, I’ll give it to the dog handler so they can scent the dogs.

“Yes indeed,” answered the King.

The Baillie leapt from his horse and called to one of the dog handlers. “Where did that thing come from?” he said pointing to Toby. “Who cares?” shouted the man.

“Just let my dog get the scent and he’ll be off and running.”

The dogs circled and the Baillie kneeled down holding the cloak towards the dogs. Immediately, they began running around with their noses close to the ground. It was not long before the lead dogs gave off a distinctive howl and ran towards the cliff edge. “Follow me men,” shouted the King as he dismounted.

The men were caught up in the thrill of the chase, the men scurried down the cliff face, falling over each other as sand and pebbles landed on their heads of those lower down. Nobody seemed to mind. Finally, they were all on the beach puffing and panting, their eyes gleaming with exhilaration.

“See those caves over there?” said Fergusson.

“That’s where I think they took her. There’s nowhere else she could be. High tide has come and gone several times washing

the beach clean. See, even the dogs have lost the scent.�

The dogs ran around in circles then collected in little groups. Some seemed bewildered and stared at their masters’ faces waiting for commands while others ran up and down the beach.

Fergusson took command of the situation and called the dog handlers to the nearest cave.

“Let’s go in this one first. Who knows, it may not be deep enough, but we have to check every single one.”

He rushed in followed by several men and their dogs, but quickly determined the cave was not more than twenty-five feet deep and was still wet from the last tide.

Fergusson lifted his arm and rallied his men.

“Next one,” he shouted as he marched towards the second cave. The men caught up with him forming a rag tag line of soldiers and local men. On reaching the entrance to the cave, they suddenly stopped in their tracks. There was something ominous about the small, dark opening, everyone felt it. Some men mumbled their fears to the next man.

“You know if there’s only one way in...They’ll be only one way out. I don’t like this one bit Fergusson,” said Castor in a quaking voice. “It could be a trap.”

“Stop your belly aching man. See the dogs have picked up the scent. Let’s go.”

The dogs needed no encouragement. They ran into the dark opening, their tails wagging, their noses close to the ground. Soon their howling changed. Even those men in the group unaccustomed to hunting with dogs could determine there was now a feverish pitch to the dogs’ barking. They had heard for years that dogs “gave tongue” when they sensed their prey, and today they heard it clearly. It all added to the fervor and excitement as they rushed into the cave. Fergusson and a few men were first in after the dogs, but quickly lost sight of them as the cave took a sharp turn to the left and obliterated most of the natural light. Fergusson could hear the dogs howling as they ran onwards and he assumed the cave ran on for some distance beyond the bend.

“Go back and get the torches.” Fergusson yelled to nobody in particular. “Bring them all – I have a feeling we’re going to need them.”

Three men peeled off the group, scrambled up the cliff face and raced to the wagons. Grabbing tinder boxes and torches they almost fell over each other as they clambered back down to the beach below.

“Hurry,” said one man, “Pass them along. We mustn’t keep the King waiting.”

Fergusson saw the men holdings the torches.

“They’re here your majesty. What would you have us do?”

“We won’t light them until we absolutely have to,” said one of the King’s lieutenants. “We don’t know what we’ll find and we don’t know how long it will take us, so we must be sure we have enough light.”

The lieutenant issued more instructions, this time to the Pikemen. “You stand guard at the entrance and don’t let anyone enter or leave.”

“Yes sir” responded the Sergeant at Arms and ordered his men to bring their pikes to attention and form a barrier.

The King, surrounded by a tight group of his best men cautiously moved towards the back of the cave followed by Fergusson and MacLeod. The natural light from the cave entrance faded quickly and soon they were almost total darkness. They could hear nothing except their own breathing and the drip, drip of water as it seeped through the cracks in the walls.

They reached what looked like the back of the cave.

“I fear it’s a dead end Sire.” MacLeod offered.

“Perhaps we should try one of the other caves? After all, the caves could be linked.” His voice echoed eerily in the cave.

The dogs circled and began howling again.

Fergusson looked at them. “No, they’ve picked up the scent all right. See, it’s dry here. At high tide, the sea doesn’t come into the cave at this point.”

Suddenly the dogs seemed to disappear and Fergusson screamed. “Light a torch –damn it man. Follow the dogs! See here, there’s a narrow opening in the rock wall just wide enough for a grown man to slip through.” He could hardly keep the excitement from his voice.

“Shall we go Sire?” Fergusson almost begged the King.

“Yes, go, but wait until we’re all assembled on the other side. Do you understand me? Nobody goes anywhere unless we’re all together.”

One man after another slid around the crack in the cave wall and waited impatiently for the others to arrive.

The dogs were circling waiting on instructions from their masters. When the men were assembled on the other side, they lit a second torch and, holding them both loft tried to peer into the darkness. As their eyes adjusted, one man yelled.

“Look, someone’s tried to build a barricade. Someone’s been here,” he laughed at the effort. “They’ll have to do better than that eh sire?”

The men started pulling the flimsy barricade down tossing pieces left to right yelling encouraging comments to each other. They were only halfway through their task when the dogs, anxious to get going, ran up and over the mound of debris and were soon lost from sight.

“We need more light over here,” bellowed Fergusson, “Hurry men, we’re very close. Does anyone else smell smoke?”

As the last of the barricade came down, the men pushed forward but suddenly, something drove them apart. Several men gasped and one man stumbled backwards cursing aloud. Nervous laughter rang out as they realized it was the large wolfhound that had followed them all morning.

He was now bounding ahead, his head down between his shoulders as he ran. Trained from a puppy to hunt, the Irish wolfhound was bigger and stronger than the hounds, but it was their superior sense of smell that had brought them to this place.

The King led the procession of men. What had started as a show of support for his Baillie and subjects had now become an exciting manhunt. His soldiers around him, the King felt alive with the anticipation of what they would find. Suddenly, the dogs’ baying changed to something completely different and the men stopped dead in their tracks.

They looked at each other, their faces contorted and grim in the torchlight.

“What’s happening?” said one in a whisper.

“Did you hear that?”

“They’ve met their prey,” was all the dog handler was prepared to say. “They’ll hold them till we get there.”

Chapter 62

Toby growled deep in his throat, bared his teeth aggressively and hunched his shoulders. The hair down the middle of his back stood straight up and he growled menacingly as he paced towards the man who stood with pistols in both hands.

The well trained hounds did not attack but ran in circles howling and waiting for their masters. Now within ten feet of the man, Toby locked eyes with Sawney Bean and saw the fear. Unable to stop himself, Toby jumped. One pistol fired into the ceiling and the other misfired as the dog landed bodily on his prey, snarling and baring his teeth.

The clan gasped in horror as they watched the scene unfold before their eyes. They kept moving backwards taking little steps until they could go no further, their backs braced against the cavern walls. In the distance, they could see the glow of several torches coming closer and closer and the unmistakable sound of boots getting louder and louder.

When the King and his entourage came into view, the clan gasped in unison. Instinctively, they knew he was someone of importance just by his bearing and clothes.

They tilted their heads to one side then the other as they tried to make sense of what they were seeing.

The King looked about him. His mouth dropped open and he also whispered. “Mother of God – Who are you people, and what are you doing here?”

Stepping forward Sawney Bean sneered and jutted his chin in the air. “I might ask you the same question although I have a good idea who you are. Call this god damned dog off me and I’ll tell you.”

Fergusson pulled several times on Toby’s collar before he would back away. Even then, the dog did not

submit completely and continued to growl deep in his throat.

Sawney bounced upright, bowed ever so slightly, even graciously to the King. He smiled broadly showing his black teeth. “I’m known as Sawney Bean your majesty – how may I be of service to you?”

“Do not try my patience, sir,” snapped the King, “I’ll deal with you in good time. Get over there with the rest of your people, and keep your mouth shut.”

“As you wish your majesty,” said Sawney as he moved with other members of his clan towards some barrels that were set against the farthest wall.

“What are you trying to hide?” asked the King. “What’s over there? Sergeant, go and look – take the torches.”

Some of the children began to cry openly, and the younger women wailed.

“Bring that torch closer man,” muttered the sergeant. I can barely see my hand in front of my face. See, the barrel is tightly pinned down. He used his knife to prize it off and stumbled backwards at the sight. “Oh dear Mother of God,” he cried aloud and vomited.

“What is it – what is it Sergeant? What causes you to behave so?”

The Sergeant wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Look for yourself, your majesty,” he said pointing a shaking finger towards the barrel.

The King pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket, held it to his mouth and nose and cautiously approached the barrel. There, in the barrel steeped in brine water were the dismembered parts of human bodies. Arms, legs, parts of a torso swam in jelly-like aspic. Clumps of white fat floated on the surface, the smell of death and decay was everywhere. The King brought his hand to his mouth and stifled a cough.

“How could anyone do such a thing to a fellow human being?” The sergeant clenched his jaw shut and quickly gained control of his emotions. “Come with me Jack,” the sergeant said to his first lieutenant. “I can see something glistening over there in the far corner.”

The two men broke away from the group and nervously made their way to the back of the cavern. “What it is?” muttered the soldier holding his torch high in the air and peering forward. “Is is a wood pile?”

“No, no it is not! Oh dear God have mercy on our soul. These are bones, human bones.” He turned to look at the group. “What have they been doing here?” he said with disgust.

“Look at the bones carefully Sergeant,” whispered his lieutenant, “See the bones have been lobbed off at each end, and then split open for the marrow.”

The sergeant shuddered. “I need to report this to the King,” stay here.

Cats large and small wove in and out of the bones mewing loudly. One large female about to have a litter purred against his leg and he kicked her away viciously.

“What did you find out?” asked the King. On seeing his soldier’s ashen face the King asked again. “What’s wrong with you Sergeant? What did you find?”

“Sire, these fiends have been devouring their victims for years. I can’t believe what I’ve just seen – if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it myself. Judging by the amount of bones and skulls back there, it’s been going on a very long time,” he shuddered with the thought. I think we’ve finally put an end to the mysteries Sire.

But those poor people,” he turned back to the back of the cave, “how they must have suffered at the hands of these monsters. They must be possessed of the devil otherwise how could they do such evil things? Dear Mother of God, they even used the marrow!” He crossed himself.

“Get these filthy wretches out of here. First the women and children, then the men,” ordered the King.

“I’d rather die here and now,” screamed Agnes as she rushed towards the soldiers.

“I’m sure you would, but that would be too easy for you, you god forsaken witch. You’ll face your Maker on Judgment Day on the gallows with the rest of your clan,” countered the King. “Get them out of here now.”

“Do as you’re told,” Sawney said in a tone somewhere between a snivel and a sob, “there’s no point in resisting – there’s just too many of them….”

“It’s just like you to give in so easily,” screamed Agnes. “You’ve always been a lily livered son of a bitch.”

Within minutes the first of the clan began staggering from the cave. Timid women and children emerged first sniffing the air like animals trying to decide what fate awaited them. They shielded their eyes from the sun, looked at the distant sea and then turned their heads in wonderment at the high cliffs. Some of the clan members picked up speed and ran towards the cave exit ready to fight their way out. But once they saw the contingent of soldiers barring their way, they gave up readily.

The Pikemen watched in absolute horror as twenty-four men, women and children walked out the cave and assembled on the beach. The scene was almost too much even for the hardened soldiers, and they turned their heads away at the sight before their eyes. Few of the people wore clothes, especially the children. Even the young women thought nothing of their nakedness.

The King brought his men to order. “Bind their hands and take them up to the clearing,” he shouted.

“Women and children in the carts, the men can walk behind.”

Standing atop the cliff, Catherine and Tom watched the spectacle develop before their eyes. “Holy Mother, look at these poor wretches,” gasped Catherine as her eyes scanned the scene. “I don’t see my mother amongst them. Thank God, thank God.” Tom said nothing, and watched with a mixture of horror and fascination as the group was led up the cliff face and onto the clearing. Some of the soldiers had removed their coats and placed them on the young women’s shoulders, but the women seemed not to care and threw the coats aside.

Catherine and Tom shied away embarrassed by the sight, but it was not fast enough. One woman stared in their direction.

Her hate filled eyes locked on Catherine.

“Who is that woman?� Catherine murmured to no one in particular.

A soldier who heard Catherine’s question responded. “I think they said she’s Sawney’s woman.”

“Where did those people come from? Who are they? Where are you taking them?” asked Tom who had strolled over to the soldier.

“It’s anyone’s guess how long they’ve been in that cave. I understand the leader’s name is Sawney Bean.

He’s a cocky little bastard and full of himself. I doubt we’ll take them back to Ballantrae; the jail isn’t large enough to hold so many people. I think the lieutenant said we’ll go to Prestwick. There’s a decent sized dungeon to hold them all.”

“Are they the gang who has been robbing travelers? Why do they not wear clothes? They have women and children in their midst. Have pity I say.”

The soldier scoffed. “You haven’t been inside the cave,” he whispered. “What these people have been doing is beyond all common decency and it must have been going on for years and years judging by the amount...” the soldier did not finish.

Tom looked over his shoulder at Catherine and dropped his voice. “What do you mean?”

The soldier looked aghast. “They’ve been eating their victims! There’s a pile of bones as tall as any man, and body parts soaking in brine. The stench is terrible!

And did you see the children? They all look the same. One looks just like the other. I dread to think what’s been going on. Don’t go down there I beg you.”

Tom looked over at Catherine. He did not know she had walked up and quietly stood there listening to his conversation. She was deathly white. “Don’t come to any conclusions. Many things could have happened to your mother. She could be safe and sound in Glasgow for all we know.” But it was too late; the fact that her mother had not been discovered in the cave and the scene that had been described was almost too much for her to bear. She sank slowly to the ground in a dead faint.

Tom knelt quickly beside Catherine and supported her head in the crook of his arm. He stroked her forehead and cheek and whispered, “Catherine, dear Catherine will you please say something. Open your eyes and look at

me, I beg you.�

Catherine’s eyes fluttered open as Tom rubbed her hand. She began to cry immediately. “You and that horrid little man Murdoch were wrong. She wasn’t there was she?

She wasn’t there!”

“At this time, we don’t know what’s happened to her,” said Tom allowing his voice to convey the worry he felt in his heart. “Anything could have happened.” He let the implication hang in the air.

A cool breeze swept off the Firth and Catherine shivered. She stared in horror as the women and children were loaded into the wagons. The woman who had caught Catherine’s gaze now looked over her shoulder, and smiled. The children were crying piteously, tears streaming down their black faces, unable to understand what was happening to them. Wrenched from their home, the only place they had ever known was simply too much for them to understand. The boys followed the younger children into the carts and watched the soldiers under hooded eyes. They seemed to be fascinated by the soldiers’ uniforms and hardly took their eyes off them.

Another group of approximately five or six people staggered up the cliff and into the clearing. They walked as if in a drunken state, most of them keeping their eyes downcast. Their bodies were filthy, their hair, matted with grease hung in clumps over their shoulders. Most had large, red, angry boils over their faces, arms and legs. As the children turned to get into the carts, Catherine could see terrible scars on their backs. “Those poor children have been beaten unmercifully,” she cried.

Few wore shoes and those that did not had dry, bleeding feet. As the last of the men and women were led into the clearing, all eyes fell on them. Catherine peeped out from behind Tom as a woman stood up in the cart.

The woman called out. “Margaret.”

Catherine gasped. “Did you hear that? She called me by my mother’s name. She thinks she recognized me. I have to speak to her. I have to find out what she knows.”

Catherine stumbled forward already smelling the stench of their bodies. She brought her hand to her mouth and nose but kept walking towards the cart.

“Stand back, Sister,” said a guard. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got my orders. You mustn’t come any closer.”

Catherine let her arms drop to her side in despair and looked back at Tom. “I know what you’re thinking Catherine, but I feel it would be better if we just left this place. What say you?”

Shaking her head from side to side, Catherine pulled her cloak about her shoulders and walked back to the carriage. “I’m not going to stop now. I have to speak to that woman.”

Chapter 63

Fergusson approached the King. “Sire, will we be taking them to Prestwick for trial or Glasgow?”

“There’ll be no trial. There’s no point in wasting time and money. They’ll be executed tomorrow in Prestwick.”

Fergusson gulped. “Even the children, Sire?”

He held his breath and waited.

“How dare you question my decision,” snapped the King. “What good would they be as adults?

They’ll merely follow the same path. They know nothing different. Look at them; they are no more than beasts, wild animals of the forest. No, they will suffer the same fate as their parents. Sergeant at Arms Stuart, you will see to it. Do you understand me? The men will be hung, drawn and quartered as is right and proper for their wickedness. The women will be hung by the neck until dead – their bodies burned.”

“And the children sire…how shall they meet their end?”

“I’ll leave that to your discretion, but get it done as quickly and painlessly as possible,” responded the King as he stormed off.

Tom and Catherine sat in the carriage, watched and waited until the King and his regiment left the clearing. They followed the contingent, slowly making their way towards Prestwick, the hounds excitedly circling the wagons that held the clan. Toby had fallen back into his protective role as guardian, and looked up occasionally to be sure Catherine was still sitting in the carriage.

Runners had entered the town of Prestwick.

The streets were lined with people who had turned out to watch the procession. The King rode in the lead followed by his own guards, the three wagons holding the captives and the rest of the soldiers. The Pikemen followed in the rear, their pikes resting comfortably on their shoulders as they marched.

Children ran ahead spreading news of the arrests and crowds gathered in the streets.

Tom maneuvered the carriage through the town gates of Prestwick in the wake of the slow moving procession. First he heard the cheers as the King rode through the town, but the cheering quickly turned to jeers and catcalls as the carts trundles through the cobbled streets. By the time they reached the center of town, the crowd was in full force.

Wicked things were screamed at the prisoners. They were spat on and pelted with rotten eggs and vegetables as the carts passed. The King rode high in the saddle proud he had brought the clan to justice.

“Where are they taking them?” asked Catherine in a soft whisper.

“To the jail, no doubt,” answered Tom. “Why’d you ask?”

“You saw the way that woman looked at me – the woman in the dark red dress, ‘Sawney’s woman’, the soldier called her. She smiled at me in a horrid, malicious way. You must have noticed. I have to speak to her, and the woman who called my mother’s name. I have to know Tom. One way or the other – I must know. Please help me. When they die, so will my chances of finding my mother. Please Tom, please,” she begged.

“I don’t know if it will be allowed, but I can try. I’ll speak to the guard at the jail and see what I can do. Do we have any money left?”

Catherine and Tom spent the night in an inn on the edge of town. Even so, they were kept awake most of the night by the carpenters erecting two more scaffolds in the town square to supplement the one already in place.

Before Catherine was awake, Tom quickly made his way towards the town jail. Shoving his hands nonchalantly into his pockets, he began whistling a little tune as he approached the guard on duty. “I’m travelling with Sister Catherine MacDonald and she was upset by the events of yesterday. She asked if she might visit with the prisoners before they go to the gallows.”

The guard smiled wickedly. “You think they’ll want to repent or confess before they hang? She must be mad

this nun of yours. I heard what they did to those travelers.

They deserve to rot in hell! I’ll not give them an opportunity to redeem themselves.�

Tom pulled two shillings from his pocket.

“Would this help?”

The guard reached for the money and slipped it in his pocket. “Bring the Sister here at mid morning and I’ll personally escort her down there. They’ve been separated, you know, the men from the women and children. I’m just glad I don’t have to stay down there.” He pulled a face and added, “The smell is shocking.”

When Tom returned to the inn Catherine pounced on him. “What did you find out? Will I be able to see her? Have you been able to arrange it?

“Yes, I have.”

“Thank you, thank you Tom. I shall be in your debt forever.”

“Think nothing of it Catherine, but you must wear your full habit. I gave the guard the impression you were visiting the prisoners under your religious callings. I didn’t see any reason to tell him otherwise.”

Catherine smiled ruefully at her companion.

She had grown very fond of him over the weeks, and realized there was more to him than she first thought. He had a good heart, he made her laugh and he made her angry, but he had never left her side, not for one minute, despite everything that had happened. She smiled to herself when she thought of the leper colony and the plague ridden village of Eyam. Yes, it had been a difficult time, but somehow they had endured.

Catherine drummed her fingers on the table impatiently waiting for the time to come. It passed agonizingly slowly and so she took the time to carefully prepare for her meeting. What would she ask? What would she learn? For all she knew, her mother was close by. The thoughts kept rolling around in her head until she became dizzy and unfocused. She reprimanded herself and tried to calm down. She had to think of all the questions she needed answered before it was too late. If she did not, she may never know the truth.

Tom stood in the doorway of the inn. “I think it’s time Catherine.”

She jumped up immediately and picked up her Bible. They walked in silence to the jail.

When they arrived at the gate, Tom looked her solemnly. “Catherine, whatever happens, whatever is said in there – I’ll be right by your side.”

“I know that. Thank you, Tom. I know I can count on you. I wouldn’t have come this far without your help.”

The guard looked Catherine up and down with interest as he opened the door to the jail.

“I don’t know what you expect to find Sister, but I think you might want to prepare yourself for a shock.”

As the door opened, the stench wafted towards Catherine and rocked her back on her heels.

“I tried to warn you Sister,” said the jailor laughingly. “Do you still want to go in?”

She remembered the smell from the clearing, but in the confines of the jail, it was so much worse. Her eyes watered and she stifled a gag. She nodded to the jailor and entered the cells with Tom at her side. Glancing around, she could see most of the women and children cowered in a corner. Only one person had been manacled against the wall.

It was the woman in the red dress.

“Come to see me have you dearie? I knew you would. You couldn’t stay away from me could you? But I know who you are even if you don’t know me.” She arched her body and struggled against her restraints.

“Please Catherine, be careful,” hissed Tom. The woman mimicked Tom’s voice. “Yes sweet Sister, don’t get too close, I might take a bite out of you,” she cackled.

Catherine would not be intimidated and instead walked towards the woman removing her wimple. “So you know my mother? Where can I find her?”

Agnes threw her head back and laughed. “Oh yes, I knew your mother and I knew about you too. I suppose you’ve come looking for your precious mother – well you’re too bloody late. She’s dead! Do you hear me – dead! You

came all this way and missed her by a few months.�

Catherine’s legs trembled but she kept her composure and remained calm enough even though her voice gave way to her true feelings. Fearing the worse she asked, “What happened to her?”

“What do you mean, what happened to her?

She got ill and died and Sawney sent her off to a watery grave,” said Agnes vindictively. “Oh, I see now what you’re thinking. You know how we lived. You know what we ate.

No, Sawney would have none of that for his high and mighty princess. She was special! Well she wasn’t special to me; I’d have eaten her liver given half a chance, and enjoyed every bit of it. She was a stuck-up madam who never mixed with the rest of us and instead spent her time teaching that little bitch Alice how to read and write. When your mother up and died on us, that little whore took off running and here we are,” she said sweeping her eyes around the jail.

Catherine tried to control her voice. “If you were so unhappy with her and her with you, why did she stay?”

“Let me tell you the whole story sweetie,” said Agnes gleefully and she quickly shared the whole gruesome story from beginning to end. Catherine swayed backwards and forwards trying to keep her balance. Fearful she would collapse, Tom put his arm around her protectively.

“I think we’d better leave,” said Catherine.

“Yes, run away. But you’ll never be able to completely forget will you? I can see you’re shocked...and you a nun and all. How does it feel to know how your mother and sister lived – and what they did?” she said wickedly.

“Will you have to confess it, Sister? What will you say to the priest? Forgive my mother and sister Lord for they ate human flesh and slept with whoever wanted their bodies? That’ll make the priest’s stomach turn – don’t you think?” She threw her head back and cackled loudly.

Catherine had turned away but now took a couple of steps towards the woman. She was close enough to smell her foul breath. Without saying a word, she looked deeply into the woman’s eyes for the longest time.

“Ha! You should see your face, Sister. What a picture. By the way, if you count the months from your

father’s death – Alice was not his child, but that of the Earl of Essex. Oh, but I can see you’ve already worked that out for yourself, haven’t you? Your mother wasn’t the angel you think she was – she opened her legs for the Earl and enjoyed every minute, of that I have no doubt. You could say this whole thing began with your mother.”

Up until this point, Catherine had been mesmerized by the story and stood clasping and unclasping her hands until they hurt. She looked around at the sorrowful group of women as some nursed babies at their breasts and toddlers mercifully unaware of the fate that waited them. But now she was incensed with anger herself and she turned on the woman.

“How dare you! How dare you blame my mother for your own wicked ways? You were and still are a hideous human being who has never worked an honest day in your life. If it had not been my mother, then it would have been some other poor soul. My mother wasn’t perfect I know, but then who is? She did the best she could under the circumstances and came to you for help believing you were her friend, and you took advantage of her. But she won out in the end didn’t she?”

“What do you mean, won! She’s dead! How could she have won?” spat Agnes with venom. She had not expected a response from the calm nun who had stood before her listening to the tirade. She arched her back from the manacles to get as close to Catherine as possible. “If I could only get my hands on you I’d make you pay for that you little bitch. You’d wished you’d never been born.”

Catherine smiled, something she often did when she was nervous, “My mother trained my sister well – didn’t she? She escaped and came for me.”

“So she made it did she? All the way to Essex, well I never. So why isn’t she here? I’d like to give her a piece of my mind.”

Catherine turned to go and said. “I’ll pray for you.”

“Don’t you turn your back on me you little cow? Stay here, do you hear me? And you can keep your damn prayers to yourself...”

The sound of Agnes’ screams began to fade as she and Tom walked from the dungeon.

They stopped for a moment as Catherine pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and blew her nose. “I was so close Tom. I was so close to seeing my mother after all these years.”

“Let’s get out of here,” he responded and together they stumbled towards the dungeon’s steps.

The jailor’s keys jangled as he walked behind them. He started laughing. “Was it worth the trouble Sister?”

Catherine began to sob uncontrollably and Tom stopped and turned her towards him. “I can only imagine how you must feel Catherine, but you didn’t know what was happening – how could you? Your mother did what she had to do, and we must not judge her actions. Why, any one of us might behave in exactly the say way. I say we get out of here and never return.”

Suddenly, a young man’s face appeared in a small opening in a cell door.

“Hey there – I’m Sawney’s son, Robert. If you’ll hear my confession, Sister, and say a prayer for me, I’ll tell you what I know.”

Catherine stood transfixed and simply nodded her agreement.

Robert began hesitantly. “Your mother didn’t want to do those things, you know. She was forced into it because of Alice. My parents used her just like you said for their own pleasure. I did too when I got to manhood.”

Catherine gasped and started to turn away. “Please, listen to me. I want to repent my sins Sister, you said you’d listen.”

Catherine could not look at the young man whose face filled the opening. He repulsed her. She tried to look past the open sores on his forehead and cheeks that were filled with pus and her heart softened. He saw it immediately and took advantage of it. He wanted to keep her for as long as possible.

“I was scared for Alice. She wouldn’t listen to me. She was headstrong and willful and I knew that after her baby died – you knew she had had a baby – she’d run away given half the chance. When she did, Sawney gave me a good beating I can tell you.” He smiled as if remembering. “She took off like a frightened hare months ago and I haven’t seen her since. I loved her. Is she here with you?”

Catherine took a deep breath and turned.

“What happened to Alice’s baby? Was it a boy or a girl?

Robert narrowed his eyes. “You’d know if you’d seen her.” Catherine turned away.

“All right, I’ll tell you. It was a boy and when it was born dead, Sawney had me throw it out to sea for the fish.”

Catherine shook. “I’ve had enough Tom; please take me out of here.”

“But you promised you’d hear my confession – you promised me absolution,” wailed Robert.

“I didn’t promise you absolution – I promised I would hear you, and pray for you.”

Desperate to keep Catherine where she was standing, Robert continued. “There’s something else. Those last few days before Margaret died, she and Alice whispered together for hours. Sawney didn’t like it and tried to stop them, but on the third day Margaret died in Alice’s arms. I wanted you to know that – I thought it would give you some comfort.”

“Thank you,” was all Catherine could say and she stumbled up the dungeon steps. Robert’s pleas echoed behind her as she leaned on the hand rail to steady herself.

Tom placed his arm around her waist and they climbed from the stinking pit to the sunlight above.

They blinked in the sun and drew deep breaths as they cleared their lungs.

Catherine turned towards Tom. “Despite everything you’ve heard this morning, you are still at my side.

Thank you for that.”

“There is no need for thanks. I told you weeks ago I would see this through to the very end. I intend to do just that. I’m so sorry about your mother and your sister too.

What a terrible blow you’ve been dealt. I think I need to get you back to the inn where you can sit quietly and think about the future.”

They sat holding hands not saying a word for the longest time. Catherine stared into the fire aware that everything in her life had changed. Eventually, she cupped her head in her hands and looked up at Tom. “For the first time in weeks, I don’t know what to do. I’m at a loss. Help me Tom.” Tom gulped. “Well Catherine, the decision is

yours...� he did not finish because the bells of Prestwick tolled incessantly.

She turned towards Tom. “What does that mean Tom?” “It means it’s about to happen – the hangings.

Perhaps we should leave?”

“And go where? No, I want to see this through to the very end.” She picked up her cloak, swept it over her shoulders and marched purposefully towards the door. Tom scrambled to catch u.

Tom slid his arm protectively around Catherine’s shoulder as they made their way towards the sound of the bells. Before long, others joined them filing out of their houses and into the street. A heaving mass of people bent on seeing justice done.

The air was thick with emotion. Catherine was acutely aware of those around her. Some people appeared to be in shock, their eyes transfixed as if they could hardly believe what was about to happen in their quiet little town.

Others stood in their doorways watching the throng walk by.

Some whispered behind cupped hands as Catherine and Tom passed.

“Oh dear God,” murmured Tom as he looked around the square. “Catherine, are you sure about his?”

She nodded. “Look at these people,” she hissed. “They bring their food, they bring their ale...they bring their children! Dear God Almighty, what on earth possesses them to do such a thing? I can hardly believe what I’m seeing!”

A hush came over the crowd as the wagons containing the clan pulled slowly into the town square. All eyes turned in that direction. Some men, buoyed by the latest batch of ale began shouting. “Make it slow hangman – show no mercy! Make ‘em pay, the wicked beasts!”

Catherine was mesmerized by the sight and stood with her mouth slightly open staring about her.

Tom looked about. Experience told him that a crowd such as this could quickly turn nasty. He touched Catherine on the elbow. “If we’re going to stay, we should find a better place.”

No sooner had he uttered the words than a blacksmith who had been standing nearby offered Tom his

cart. “I wouldn’t want the Sister near that mob either. You’ll get a better view if you sit in my cart.”

“You’re a kind man – thank you.” Tom helped Catherine into the cart and they sat side by side.

They were still a good distance from the gallows but close enough to see the first of the manacled men climb the steps of the scaffold. Unrepentant to the end, the prisoners’ eyes blazed with fury as they looked into the crowd and screamed profanities. “Git along with you,” yelled the constable as he wickedly shoved his tipstaff in the small of their backs. Once on the platform, the captives screamed at the crowd who jeered and heckled them back sometimes raising their fists in defiance. Knowing death was seconds away, the men became quiet as the executioner stood in front of the men and placed sacks over their heads. Next he tightened the nooses and stepped away to pull the lever.

A great cheer rose from the spectators as the men fell with a sickening thud. The hangman had done his job well. Two of the men’s necks broke immediately, the crack loud enough for those in the front row to hear, but the third jerked and danced in the hangman’s noose for several minutes before he too became still.

The women of Sawney Bean’s clan wailed and wrung their hands as they watched their men die, but minutes later they too were led to the scaffold. Like their men, they screamed obscenities at the crowd and shook their heads violently the executioner had trouble securing the sacks. The women were not so lucky in death for their necks did not break easily. Instead they jerked and squirmed at the end of the noose for several minutes until their lifeless bodies were dropped to the ground.

The young adults followed the fate of their clan while the younger children were brought to the scaffold.

The crowd suddenly became quiet.

“Surely not!” screamed a woman in the crowd.

The sentiment was picked up by others and suddenly everyone was yelling and chanting.

“Not the children – Not the children.” Two baby girls and a boy were led away by the guards as the women prisoners nodded and smiled as they climbed the steps.

Finally, the last two members of the clan were

brought into view. Sawney and Agnes were dragged from their respective carts. Their hands tied behind their backs, they were prodded towards the scaffold to the hissing and jeer from the crowd. Sawney stumbled on the first few steps and was struck by a truncheon. Blood spurted from the wound and he hesitated for a moment before finding his footing. He stumbled to the platform and, without a word, allowed the executioner to place the bag over his head in quiet resignation of his impending death.

Agnes did not submit so readily but proudly climbed the steps, defiant to the very end. She looked over to Sawney and said something only he could hear. Unable to see her, he shook his head wearily and allowed his head to drop to his chest.

The hangman moved towards Agnes, but she let out such a blood curdling scream that even he, a hardened man was taken aback by the display of hatred he could see in her eyes. She said something to him, and he nodded and stepped behind her – waiting.

“What’s she doing?” Tom whispered, “Why is she delaying the inevitable? There’s no escape.”

But Catherine knew. “She’s looking for me.

She wants to see if I’m here to witness her death. She doesn’t think I have the courage to see this through to the very end.

Well, she’s wrong.” Sweeping her cloak from her shoulders first, she then removed her wimple and the muslin bonnet that lay underneath. As she did so, her bright red hair flew out in the wind catching the sunlight like a beacon. The action was not missed by Agnes who immediately looked in Catherine’s direction. She screamed something that could not be heard over the crowd, and then her screams became muffled by the sack that was roughly pulled over her head. The crowd cheered again and again, their arms raised in the air. The hangman pulled the lever to Sawney’s trapdoor, and he disappeared from sight. He fell with a sickening thud, twitched momentarily and bounced upwards. His lifeless body swung to and fro a few feet from the ground.

The men whistled and the women chanted, “Now, now, now.” The trapdoor under Agnes’s feet flew open and her body dropped like a stone. She was not as lucky as her husband and did not die immediately but jerked on the end of the hangman’s noose like a puppet, her legs moving grotesquely as spasms wracked her body.

Still the crowd jeered and laughed, none wanting the morning’s entertainment to end. They hustled together in small groups discussing the morning’s events in great detail and talked about which of the clan had lasted the longest at the end of the noose.

Some men merged towards the back of the scaffold where the bodies had been thrown in a pile. Without a word, they piled the bodies into the carts and moved off towards the edge of town. There the bodies would be burned to a cinder, a funeral pyre of massive proportions.

Physically and mentally exhausted, Catherine slumped down in the carriage.

Tom sat down beside her. “Come Catherine – let us leave this place and never return.”

She did not seem to hear him. Staring into the distance, she said. “How could God allow such misery?”

“I don’t have the answer, and neither to you Catherine. How can we possibly know? Only He knows. I don’t think anything we could have done would have made a difference. It was out of your hands as soon as your mother entered that cave. At least you know what happened now.

Come on.” He helped raise her to her feet.

She had not realized she had been holding her mother’s bible fiercely close to her chest the whole time. She looked down at it as if seeing it for the first time, and began to sob quietly. Tom put his arm tenderly around her shoulders and she turned to him. Lovingly, he swept a lock of hair from her forehead and she tilted her face towards him. Tears streamed down her cheeks and he gently wiped them away with the palm of his hand. He ran a finger over her lips, and she parted them willingly.

“I’m going to do something I’ve wanted to do since the first moment I met you. I want to kiss you.”

There was no resistance. Catherine nodded slightly and closed her eyes. The kiss was light and sweet at first but it was filled with such warmth and passion, she lost all sense of time and place. When she finally pulled back from Tom’s embrace, he placed both hands on her shoulders and looked deeply into her eyes.

“There now, that wasn’t so bad was it?”

Catherine put her hand to her mouth nodded and smiled. “I can’t believe what’s happening. My whole life has changed. For months, I’ve been certain of what I am doing, where I was going – what I would find. Now, I’m at a loss. I’ll never see my mother’s kind face, feel her touch, and hear her voice.” Catherine shuddered. “So much has happened. What am I going to do Tom?” “I think you should do whatever you feel is best Catherine. You know I will be here at your side. He took both hands and brought them to his lips gently. Will you let me stay with you? Will you let me help you? I promise I’ll change my ways. I’ve learned so much from you. I have a confession to make. You remember when I woke up under the tree, and you were so concerned for me. Well, I wanted to kiss you from that very first moment. And then later, when we argued, I was so miserable, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I’ve never felt this way before....”

Catherine’s face reddened. “This is all so sudden Tom. You’ll have to give me time.”

“Time,” he scoffed. “I have all the time in the world. But what of you? What are your plans Catherine? Will you be going on to Glasgow or will you return to the priory?”

She was quiet for a few moments. Tom remained as still as a statue and waited. Catherine looked at her mother’s bible and reached inside her pocket for a handkerchief. Wiping her tears away she looked up at him with affection. “Will you come with me to Hadleigh Castle?”