by Ashe Barker
He dared not allow the horse to pick up the pace even a little. It would take them hours to reach Chester at this rate.
Jane was shivering, though she refused to complain. Her hair clung to her scalp and the red velvet gown had not fared well though Jane insisted that it would be fine once it dried out.
If it ever dried out. Robbie had his doubts. He cast an eye upward at the angry grey skies, which showed not the remotest sign of clearing.
Archie plodded along just behind him, sharing his mount with Angus. Then came the wagon, driven by Wee Richard with the countess, Cecily, and Colin sheltering in the back. The rest of his men, also sharing horses, brought up the rear of their miserable bunch.
Jane shifted before him in the saddle. Her body stiffened.
“What was that?” she whispered.
“What was what?”
“That. That sound. Did you not hear it?”
He cocked an ear but could pick out nothing beyond the near-deafening roar of the raging water. “I cannae hear myself think, let alone anything else.”
“There. I heard it again.” She sat bolt upright, peering straight ahead through the near-impenetrable wall of water. “It came from somewhere in front of us. It sounded like ... an animal, perhaps.”
Wolves? Robbie was unsure if there still were wolves roaming the English countryside, but in any case, they were canny beasts and possessed better sense than to be outside in a downpour like this. He was still not able to hear anything out of the ordinary.
Jane clutched his hand. “Not an animal. No, it is a voice. Someone is calling for help.”
“Are ye sure, lass? I cannae hear a thing. Can you, Archie?”
His friend came up alongside, shaking his head. “‘Tis hard tae tell, though, wi’ all this other din.”
By now, their entire column had stopped. Robbie passed the word back, and all listened intently.
The next cry, though faint, was heard by all of them.
“Jesus, ye’re right, Janie. There is someone out there...”
“Was that a woman’s voice? Or maybe a child?” Jane grasped his arm. “We need to find her, make sure she is all right.”
Robbie was not quite so sure of the wisdom of this plan. His view changed when he heard the cry again, clearer this time.
“Please, help us. Somebody, help us...”
He dug his heels into the stallion’s flanks and edged forward.
“We are coming. Where are you?” Jane yelled into the deluge.
“Here. Over here...”
“To the left,” Jane whispered. “Closer to the river.”
Robbie did not dare bring the stallion any closer to the crumbling river bank, but continued forward until the cries seemed to be coming from directly to his left. “Stay here,” he commanded, swinging his leg from the saddle, and dropping to the sodden ground with a splash.
He took a few careful steps toward the river, aware of a presence at his side. He cast a glance at Archie. “Can ye see anything?”
“No’ yet.”
They advanced a few more feet, following the sound of the plaintive cries.
“We cannot hang on any longer. Please, please help us...”
“Where are you?” Robbie yelled. “We cannot see you...”
“We are in the river...”
Jesus Christ.
Both men dropped onto their bellies and crawled forward until they could look over the grassy banks into the roiling torrent below.
“Holy fuck. There!” Archie pointed to their left, upstream a few paces, and Robbie followed his gesture.
“Bloody hell.” Two pale, white faces peered back up at him. One of them, the older, he thought, a girl, stood waist-deep in the current. The only reason she was not swept away by the water was that she was clinging to a clump of brambles that grew out of the banking. The smaller child, a boy, was fully in the water and clinging to the girl’s waist. She was trying to hold onto him with one hand, and the brambles with the other. By the looks of her, she was tiring rapidly.
“Go get a rope an’ a couple o’ the men. We shall have tae go down there,” Robbie commanded, already unfastening his boots.
“Aye.” Archie wriggled backwards, then got to his feet and sprinted back to where the rest of their group waited. He returned moments later accompanied by Fergus and Angus. Each of the men carried a coil of rope.
Archie tossed the end of his rope to Robbie, who by now had taken off his boots and cloak. “Tie that round your waist an’ I shall hitch the other end tae the wagon.”
Robbie did not need telling twice. Moments later the rope went taut, and he started to inch over the edge of the banking. Beside him, a bootless, cloakless Fergus did the same. Carefully, they clambered down until their bare feet dangled in the water.
“It cannae be that deep just here. The lass is standin’ up. We need tae be downstream from her in case she loses her grip.”
Fergus merely nodded grimly. Side by side, they dropped further, battling against the fierce current until their feet met the solid rocks on the river bed. The water came almost to the tops of their thighs and the weight of the current was enough to cause the pair of them to stagger. Robbie was amazed the wee girl had found the strength to hang on this long.
“Fuck, it’s cold,” Fergus muttered. “Can ye still see them?”
“Aye. I can almost reach the lad...” Robbie edged sideways, his arm outstretched. “Take my hand,” he yelled.
The boy did not move. Now that he was closer, Robbie could see that the lad looked to be no more than seven or eight years old, and he appeared to be unconscious. “I need tae get a bit closer,” he called to Fergus. “Can ye grab a hold o’ my belt in case I lose my footing?”
“Aye, my lord.” Fergus used the loose end of the rope around his own waist to wrap around Robbie’s belt. He tied it securely, lashing the pair of them together. Robbie nodded his approval and stepped off the rock.
His foot found just swirling water.
Fuck.
There was no time to ponder the wisdom of his next move. He shoved himself off the rock and lurched forward the few inches he needed to reach the children. He grabbed the brambles just above where the girl’s hand was and wrapped his arm around the near lifeless body of the smaller child.
“‘Tis all right, lass. I have him now.”
She did not reply, just gaped at him, her features white with terror.
“Hold on a few seconds more, lass. I shall be back for ye.” He turned and launched himself into the torrent again.
Fergus had hold of the rope around his belt and dragged him back through the churning water until he was able to stand on the rock and pass the limp body to the waiting man. “I shall go get the lass now, then we shall climb up together.”
Fergus nodded, the boy clamped against his chest.
Moments later, Robbie was beside the girl again. He would judge her to be perhaps twelve years old. He did not care at all for the bluish tint around her lips and her fingers. There was no way of knowing how long the pair of them had been in the water, but she was suffering badly from the cold.
“Can ye climb on my shoulders, pet?” It would be better for her to be out of the water if possible.
She nodded but made no move to do so.
“My name is Robbie. Who might you be, pet?”
“M-Martha, sir,” she stammered.
“‘Tis good tae meet ye, Martha. Can ye take my hand?”
She did so but did not relinquish her desperate grip on the bramble. Robbie crouched lower in the water so that his shoulders were level with her knees. “Now, can ye climb on my shoulders, eh?”
This time, her nod was accompanied by the required action. She lifted one leg and sat awkwardly astride his right shoulder for a moment, until Robbie grabbed her ankle and tugged it around the back of his neck to give her a more secure seat. When he stood upright, she at last released her grip on the bramble.
He glanced back at Fergus. “Are ye rea
dy?”
Fergus braced himself against the banking. “Aye, ready enough.”
Robbie tilted his head back and yelled to those above, “Archie, haul us up.”
* * *
Archie lay face down in the mud, watching proceedings below in the water. He held his breath when his friend launched himself into the stream to reach the stranded children. He could not hear what was said between those in the river, but could see that the wee laddie looked to be in a bad way. As soon as Robbie issued the command to haul them up, he leapt to his feet and grabbed the rope closest to him. Alec was beside him and the pair of them took the strain.
Will and Angus had the other rope and they, too, dug in their heels and began to pull.
The first few inches were easy enough, but they soon lost their purchase on the slippery ground. The progress made was lost when their feet shot out from under them.
“What the...? Archie, what are ye doin’ up there?” Robbie’s voice echoed from below. “We’re freezin’ down here.”
“Can we use the horses, sir?” Alec suggested.
Archie got to his feet, shaking his head. “We cannae risk losin’ any o’ them, as well as those below, if the banks give way under the weight. Same wi’ the wagon. Grab a hold an’ we shall try again.”
They did, heaving and straining, fighting to stay upright, only to find themselves rolling in the mud once more.
“Fuck.” Archie gestured to the others to grasp the ropes again. They had to keep trying. They could not fail now.
“Shall we help?” Jane called from beside the wagon, Lady Falconer by her side. Both were already removing their cloaks ready to lend their assistance to the effort.
Archie did not much relish that notion and could not imagine they would make much difference anyway, but he nodded. He would make one last attempt to raise both together, and if that failed he would give the order to bring them up one at a time, risking the loss of the second man.
“On three,” he yelled, and all of them braced to take the strain.
On Archie’s count, they all bent to the task. The ropes inched up over the banking. One foot. Two feet. They were doing it!
“Pull!” Archie grunted. “Pull...”
The next instant he was on his nose in the dirt again, the precious couple of feet lost.
To his left, Will and Angus, now aided by Lady Falconer, were still on their feet and continuing to haul their burden up.
“Alec, Jane, go help them. I shall hang on to this rope...” Dear Lord, let him possess the strength to keep his friend from being washed away. Archie dug his good leg into the mire and wrapped the rope about his own waist. If Robbie went, he would not be alone.
Moments later, a pair of gnarled hands appeared from nowhere and seized the rope in front of him. Startled, Archie caught sight of a bedraggled, weather-beaten face under bushy grey eyebrows as the newcomer planted his feet wide apart and hauled on the rope. They were joined by three more men. All grasped the line and joined in the work.
The next time Archie lost his footing, there were others there who managed not to. Between them, they were at last starting to turn the tide of this battle.
“Heave,” yelled the first man who had arrived to aid him. “All of you, heave.”
Inch by inch, foot by agonising foot, they dragged the rope up the bank. Archie could barely believe it when a small white face appeared.
“Grab ‘er,” screamed the man with the bushy eyebrows. One of his comrades darted forward and grasped the girl’s outstretched hands, then hauled her right up onto the bank.
Robbie’s face appeared next. The man who had helped the girl reached out again, this time clasping Robbie’s hand. Moments later, he rolled onto the grass and lay gasping for breath.
Over to the left, Archie could see that a similar miracle had been achieved with Fergus. He, too, lay prone on the riverside, a small body by his side.
One of the men who had come to their aid knelt beside the boy. “Donald,” he wailed. “Open yer eyes, lad.”
Fergus, too, knelt up. “He’s alive, I think. I felt a pulse...”
Thank God. Archie helped Robbie to his feet and the pair of them joined the group around the small boy. Jane was busying herself wrapping a cloak about the narrow shoulders of the girl and herding her in the direction of the wagon.
“He’s startin’ tae come round,” Fergus muttered, bending over the lad. “Can ye hear me, laddie?”
Long, heart-stopping moments later, the boy’s eyelids parted to reveal the pale blue beneath. He looked up into the anxious gazes of those around him and opened his mouth. “I’m cold?”
Chapter Thirteen
Jane hunched over, her hands outstretched to absorb the welcome warmth of the fire. Her bare feet peeked out from beneath the thick blanket that swathed her from top to toe, and her clothes had been arranged on a rail close to the blaze. Steam rose from the sodden garments.
Beside her, Lady Falconer perched on a roughhewn settle with Cecily in her lap. She had changed into dry clothing that she had plucked from her chest and her soaked gown hung beside the red velvet. Cecily, too, had been wrapped in a dry blanket and, her belly full, she gurgled happily.
“D’you mind me asking what you be doing hereabouts?” A ruddy-faced woman stirred a pot of stew that hung over the fire. “Not that I be complaining, mind, but you’re a long way from home.”
Robbie cleared his throat, a warning to Jane to guard her tongue.
He and Archie were also sheltering from the rain in the tiny cottage. The men were seated at a small table, a mug of beer in front of each of them. Their clothing, too, was drying out nicely.
The woman shrugged. “If you prefer not to say, I shall not press you. I’m just right glad you were passing and were able to help my bairns. I would have lost the pair of ‘em otherwise.”
“I do not understand why they were even out of doors in such a deluge,” Lady Falconer observed. “Had they become lost?”
“It were our Donald,” huffed the woman, stirring the stew. “He wanted to go fishing. His grandda said as how it was no weather for that, but you know what young ‘uns are like. He snuck off when it eased a bit, I gather, but the rain was soon bad again. Our Martha saw ‘im go an’ she went after ‘im. She’s a good lass, my Martha, allus looking out for the little ones. She saw our Donald fall in the river an’ she scrambled in after.”
“That would have taken some courage,” Robbie remarked.
“Aye. I be right proud of her.” The woman beamed at them, and at her daughter who had also been wrapped in a blanket and set beside the fire to dry out. The relieved mother shuddered. “Ee, when I think how close I came to losing them both, what with the river being so swollen and deep like. I cannot thank you enough.”
“We are just glad of the chance to get dry and warm, mistress,” Robbie said. “That is thanks enough. We shall be on our way shortly and trouble you no further.”
“Nay, lad, we shall not think of letting you out again in this rain. You can stay here, in our village, till it clears.” This from the elderly man with the grey eyebrows who had been the first to assist Archie. “You saved my grandbairns. ‘Tis the least we can do.”
“Really, there is no need—”
“‘Tis settled. Your men are all tucked up nice and warm in the other cottages. You and your wife can stay here with us. Your mother too. There’s plenty of room.”
Robbie cast his eye about the cramped dwelling. It was clear to Jane that he seriously doubted that assertion though he was too polite to voice his opinion.
His eager host continued. “My Betsy can fuss over the little one as well as her own.”
“No, we—”
“Robbie, maybe we could stay a little while,” Jane broke in. The aroma of rabbit stew was tantalising, and the prospect of sleeping somewhere warm and dry near enough irresistible. “Perhaps we might enjoy a bite to eat. And it would give us a chance to get our things dry.”
“Your wife i
s right,” insisted their ruddy-cheeked hostess, Betsy, Jane presumed. “A nice drop of rabbit broth will see you all right as rain. Well, maybe not rain...”
Robbie furrowed his brow, clearly readying himself to refuse the offer of hospitality again.
“Please,” Jane begged. “Just for a short while...?” He met her gaze, hesitated, then nodded.
“We have yet to make proper introductions.” The older man smiled at the visitors who filled his small dwelling. “I am Bill Duggan, and this here is my daughter, Betsy. Our Martha and little Donald, you have already met.”
The girl, Martha, sat on a low stool beside the fire, still shivering beneath her blanket. Her younger brother had been tucked up on a pallet and was now fast asleep after his ordeal.
Robbie inclined his head and stood to shake Bill’s hand.
“My name is Robert, and this is my friend, Archie.” He glanced at Jane, and by tacit agreement they opted not to contradict Bill’s assumptions. “And of course, my wife, Jane, and our daughter, Cecily. And this is Jane’s mother, Elisabeth Falconer.”
Handshakes and polite greetings were duly exchanged. If Lady Falconer resented being stripped of her title she gave no sign of it.
“We have plenty of food with us,” Robbie offered. “We would not wish to deplete your stores, not with winter just around the corner.”
“Nay, lad, there’s plenty enough to go round,” Bill replied. “Your men as well, they shall not go hungry here. By the looks of it, this rain is set in for at least another day or so, and when it stops the roads will be nothing but mud. You shall not be on your way until the lanes are passable.”
“But, we—”
“I shall not hear of you leaving yet. You did us a great service this day. We were out seeking the children, and we saw what was happening from further up the river, where it bends around. We saw you, lad, and that other young fellow, climb down.” He shook his head. “We would have never got there in time...”
“It was nothing. We just—”
“No, I shall not be having that. It was not nothing. There’s many a fine gentleman would have just gone on past, not risked his life for a pair o’ peasant bairns. Now, I can tell that you have no wish to say why a bunch of Scotsmen might be here in Cheshire, and like Betsy says, we shall not ask again. But I sense no harm in you, and we will always try to do right by our friends. And you are our friends, sir. You and yours. You are all right welcome in this village.”