by Anya Karin
“I dunno,” John said with a grin. “You’re Robin. I just fight with sticks.”
“Quiet you!” A hushed voice from within the slanted house said. “You too, Murron! Quiet! We’re to have guests, and you’re not to speak to them or make that awful noise you’ve been making for nigh on a week.”
The two men outside looked to each other and couldn’t help but snicker, remembering their own mothers’ scolding.
She cleared her throat, and the door opened.
“Ach, hello there. John, right? And Gavin?”
“Ma’am,” Gavin nodded, and touched two fingers to the drooping arch of his hood. He swept the green, brown and red of his loosely wrapped kilt and tucked it back where it rightfully belonged, instead of on his head. “Humbly at your service, Miss...”
“Black,” she said. “Alice Black. Or at least that’s my taken name.”
“Taken name?”
“Aye, when my husband went into Macdonald’s employ, he took an English name. Bit of a strange thing to do, really, but the Laird gave him the choice of taking a new name or finding a new job after Macdonald decided the best way forward was to pretend to be as English as possible, though he dinna change his own name.”
“Well, then. Good afternoon to you, Miss Black, if that’s what you’ll have us call you.”
“Oh don’t stand out there,” she said, smoothing her voluminous skirts and moving out of the entry way. “Come in, come in. I’ve got so much to tell you.”
“Ah, Murron, I thought I told you not to bother these gentlemen. I don’t know why you’re climbing all over poor Mr. Gavin.”
“Oh, she’s fine, ma’am,” he said, smiling at the flame-haired girl who sat in his lap and tugged on his tunic’s neck lacing. “She reminds me of a girl I knew when I was young. What’d you say her name was?”
“Murron. She’s my eighth. Fifth that lived, that one.”
“Five young ones,” Gavin sighed. “Lot of mouths to stuff with food.”
“Aye, it is.”
“Blue eyes, too. Just like Kenna.”
“Kenna? Your sister?”
“No ma’am, no. Just,” he paused and swallowed. “Just someone I knew. What can we do for you?”
“Well, as you said, this is quite a lot of mouths to feed, especially when your husband is a house servant for a lord who tends to underpay him.”
John elbowed Gavin gently in the side and cocked an eyebrow.
“Underpay, you said?” He looked over at Alice. “Underpay how?”
“When my husband joined his estate, it was to pay off a debt that I’m not too proud to admit he got gambling, playing at the dice, after the war. He was a soldier like most every man in Edinburgh, and developed some particular habits. We lived in the countryside before it, a half-day’s ride from the Castle in town. But even before the Bonnie Prince fell, there wasn’t no money, you see. Not for simple people. No crops, and when they did come, there was no one to buy ‘em. So we moved here and my husband took up with Macdonald and his estate.”
“This Macdonald,” Gavin said, fiddling with little Murron’s hair, “is he a cruel man? We’ve paid him a recent visit.”
“He doesn’t beat Red, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Red?”
“Aye, that’s my husband. Red Ben. He’s called that on account of his eyebrows.”
“Red Ben Black, then?”
“So he’s styled.”
Gavin chuckled and urged her to continue.
“Right, well, Macdonald don’t beat Red, but he also don’t pay him what he says he will. Two years, almost three ago, when my husband took up with him, he promised no money, but to pay for all the food and drink we needed. And to pay for our house, and then finally, if my husband worked for him three years, his gambling debt.”
“Sounds generous, but how could he save anything?”
“He couldn’t. That was the idea, y’see. But at the same time, he ain’t made good on anything he promised.”
“Nothing at all? He hasn’t been paying-”
“He gives us a sack of tatties of a Friday. And sometimes after kirk he delivers a haggis. Never enough to feed all the little ones though, and Red, he’s a big man, and he always lets the little ones eat first so he’s never got enough.”
“What about the house? Surely he won’t let that fall through,” Gavin said with a tiny finger in his ear.
“Do you see where you’re at presently? You’re in the center of a house supposed to hold the whole lot of us. One room. Seven beds. Now we never been rich, but we had more than this and Macdonald said he’d pay for a bigger space for us, but never did. Oh and look over to here,” she stood and walked to the east end of the house, then pointed at the ceiling.
“Roof’s fallen in. When it rains, it-”
“Soaks the floor. Been like that goin’ on a year now, and he just won’t fix it. Says he ain’t got the money, but then he keeps Red working all hours of the day and night so’s he canna fix it either.”
“Give us a minute, alright ma’am?” John said as he stood.
“Right, of course.”
“What do you think,” he whispered to Gavin. “I can’t imagine a better reason to harass some noble. Hires people, then won’t pay what he said he’d pay? He’s exactly what’s wrong with this place.”
Gavin looked past his friend, and set little Murron down on the ground. She had a funny waddle when she walked off, back to her mother. He didn’t respond to John, but instead to Alice.
“How are we to get in? That estate is a ways out of town, isn’t it?”
“It is, yeah. You’re spry boys though,” she smiled. “And when you get there, Red’s ready to let you in. We planned it already.”
“Now wait a tick,” Gavin sat back. “You planned it all out without talking to us first? Without asking the people who will be doing the actual stealing?”
“Mr. Liam,” she said, “you have quite a reputation, especially amongst us poor folks. Red and I drew up the plan because we didn’t think there’d be any question whether or not you’d help. As much of a demon as you are to the Lairds, you’re an angel to us regular folk.”
Gavin’s cheeks flushed.
“I suppose there’s no reason to play about it. What’s the plan?”
Alice stood, shooed one of the boys who had settled by her feet, and fished a rolled up sheet of newspaper on the table.
“This here’s the back door,” she said with her fat finger on a smudged line. “Red’ll be waiting for you right here, with the lock undone, right as the sun drops below the trees. Be about six hours from now.”
Gavin and John looked at each other and then nodded.
“Wait a tick,” John said. “I forgot about something. Macdonald. This estate is where he lives, isn’t it? That apartment was just where he keeps company.”
“Aye, he does. But as fortune would have it, he’s traveling.”
“Traveling? Since when do Lairds go anywhere?”
“When they’ve got lasses to chase. Macdonald’s gone to Fort Mary, so I hear. He got an offer from some farmer up there who owes him a good turn for a wife. Macdonald’s not so young, so he takes what he can get.”
John and Gavin exchanged another glance, but before Gavin could respond, John said, “right – we’ll be there by dusk, and waiting. Right Liam?”
“Aye,” Gavin said with a hollow voice. “We’ll be there.”
“Red?” Gavin said in a whisper as a man with a huge belly and an even bigger beard opened the Macdonald estate’s back door just as the sun dipped below the trees ringing the acreage.
“None other,” he said softly. “Dunno much why I’m whispering. There’s no one here but the servants, and none of us cares much what happens to Macdonald or his money. Well, except for Tam. He’s a right shill, that one.”
Gavin nodded in return and pulled the rolled up map that Alice Black gave he and John of the estate. There was a place at the top of a stairwell labe
led “bedroom – pin” and when he showed this to Red Ben Black, the big man pointed him deeper into the house and led the way.
“Where’s Macdonald? Your wife said he went off to the north?” John said as they passed through a dining hall with an empty table and walls that were barren except for a garish display of the family plaid.
“Aye, right, he went up to Fort Mary. His valet told me that he was to pick up some pretty little girl whose father promised her to him. He said that back in an old uprising, the Moore man was shot, and he found him dying on the battlefield. Saved his life. Times have changed.”
Gavin nodded and agreed. “It’s hard to watch at times, the suffering.”
“It is that, aye,” the big man said. “Now it’s hardly a day what goes by without – shh!”
The three of them pushed against the warm English oak of Macdonald’s dining hall, Red Ben’s massive hands on either of the two invaders’ chests.
“Quiet now lads, Tam is afoot, he’s not much in a fight, but the less he knows the better if you understand.”
“How do you know it’s him?” John whispered.
“Y’hear that clomp-clomp?”
John nodded and squinted into the darkness. “I do,” he said.
“Right, that’s his foot. Tam, he lost a foot in one battle or another. The story changes each time he tells it. Now, Tam’s got a peg, instead.”
“And you say he’s loyal to Macdonald?”
“Well,” he sniffed, “I wouldn’t say loyal. I’d say he sticks to the side of the bread on which...ah...something about butter? I’m not sure how it goes.”
“What?” Gavin arched an eyebrow. “Are you hungry?”
“Aye, I’m that,” Red laughed under his breath. “It’s an expression. I heard it once, or read it in an almanac. Something about butter, but I don’t-”
It was Gavin’s turn to shush the others as Tam’s clomping wooden foot went down the hall past the door. The sound of wood stopped on the opposite side of where the three of them stood breathless. For too long to be comfortable, they held their breath, and just as Red Ben started to turn the color of his name, the clomping started again and went back the way it came.
As soon as they were able to breathe again, Gavin asked what the significance was of the pin that Alice Black sent him to find.
“Oh, it’s hers,” Red replied. “A family heirloom. I had to use it one morning, as I lost the pin what keeps my kilt from blowing.”
Gavin and John exchanged a glance and a grin, and then they were off. Up the stairs, and then to the left, they went undetected, saw no one and heard nothing except a rude sounding noise from the room next to the one where they were to find Mrs. Black’s hairpin.
“The servants here,” Gavin said, “they seem familiar to one another.”
The grunting next door grew louder, and Big Ben let a slow smile crawl across his lips. “Aye, that’s Andrew McGinnis and Elsa. I’m not sure of her last name, but she’s got a nice smile, she’s quite tall and has the biggest, roundest –”
“Right, right, Ben, where’s the pin supposed to be then?”
Without saying anything, Ben moved across the room and snatched not just a pin, but an entire jewelry box.
“Got to be something in here that can help someone out, don’t you think?”
“I’d imagine so,” Gavin said. “We best leave before Tam clomps back around.”
As the three of them snuck down the stairs, moved back through the dining hall, the kitchen and then the pantry, John signaled the men to stop.
“Did you hear that? Sounds like a horse. Or two.”
Gavin strained, but heard nothing over Red Ben’s labored breathing.
“It couldn’t be Macdonald home early, could it?” he said.
“No, it’s not him. He left out morning last as soon as I arrived. If it were him, he’d be coming with a loaded carriage and enough servants to provide for a small army. Master isn’t modest.”
“Ramsay Macdonald!” Someone shouted. “I’ll not wait for you to come out here. I’m coming in after you!”
“That’s not Alan, is it?” John said to Gavin. “He sounds like he’s two drams from a pint.”
“Shh!” Gavin urged. “It’s him alright. We were talking about making a game of this, right? Seems like we’ve got the chance to have a little fun with our friendly neighborhood sheriff and we didn’t even have to work at it. Come on, this way.”
Silently, except for the gentle jingles of the jewelry box under John’s cloak, the three men crept around to the side of the Macdonald estate, hiding low behind an ornamental wall. Sure enough, as the men watched, the self-appointed Sheriff of Edinburgh wandered back and forth, thumbs hitched in his thin belt.
“Ramsay!” His slurring was a bit more pronounced the closer he got. “Come out here!”
Gavin stuck his head around the wall and signaled to the others with his finger across his lips. He was laughing so hard that his shoulders shook.
“I’m not going to say anything...I won’t say anything, uh...”
“What’s wrong with him?” John said, edging up next to Gavin.
“He’s pissed, what do you think’s wrong with him? Look at that rosy glow to his cheeks. Look at how his finely powdered wig is sitting halfway off the back of his head. I bet if he tries to whip off that hat, the wig will come right after it.”
Sure enough, the next time Alan shouted at the closed door, he stomped his finely hosed and shoed foot, balled his fists and yanked his hat off. The wig slid down his back to reveal a head as bald as a snooker cue and very nearly as pale.
“It’ll be crowded with three of us on the back of a single horse, but I think we can manage.” Gavin had an impish grin.
“Oh don’t worry about me. I’ve got work to do around here. Can’t heave off just yet. I just want to see what happens,” Red Ben said with a laugh under his voice.
“What are you thinking, Gavin? Don’t tell me you’re –”
Grinning, Gavin pulled his pistol from his belt and crept along the house nearer where the hooting sheriff was screeching drunkenly at someone who was almost two days to the north of him. He looked back at John, waved him forward, and tipped his head to Red Ben Black.
Gavin tightened his belt, snugged down the loose-hanging part of his kilt, and palmed the sgain dubh he always kept in his stocking.
“You gonna kill him?”
“No, no, just give him a little start. And a little exercise.” Gavin whispered back. “On three. Ready?”
John waited for the command.
Gavin counted down with his fingers.
“Three.” He whispered.
All at once, he jumped to his feet and ran, screaming, straight at the wigless sheriff. When the man turned, Gavin fired his pistol into the air, shrieked again, and waved his dagger as Alan’s mouth fell wide open and he backed stupidly toward the door, falling over himself and collapsing to the steps.
“Wha – what is this?” He cried.
“Go home, Alan! You don’t belong here!” Gavin shouted, reaching out his hand to catch John’s grasp. “None of you do!”
“You’re under arrest! Get back here!”
Gavin felt the leather on John’s glove as he grabbed John’s five-fingered hand and leapt up onto the back of the short, stocky horse in a fluid motion.
“Me?” Gavin returned. “I’m under arrest? You’ll have to catch me first!”
Dust kicked up in a cloud as the two men on the back of the horse disappeared and the sheriff wiped a sweaty cloth across his eyes.
“I’ll get you, ghost! I know that was you!” He swore. “I’ll catch you if it’s the last thing I do. I’ll catch you and watch you hang by the neck you foul son of a whore!”
Whistling, Red Ben Black closed and locked the service door in back of the house and strolled through to the front. Pushing the door open, he whistled cheerfully.
“Ah, Sheriff Alan,” he said. “It’s so nice to see you again, but ve
ry sorry, Laird Macdonald is out on a personal matter. Is there – oh my, is something the matter? You seem to have lost your wig.”
Chapter Four
“Never lost that trick, did you?”
“What trick?” Kenna said with a smirk. She let the three small turnips fall into one hand and took a bow.
“Never seen anybody take up juggling who wasn’t looking to be a fool at court,” her father said with a chuckle. “Listen, lass. I’m going to miss you terribly. You know that, aye?”
“I do,” she said. “I’m going to miss you two worse than anything. And I’m going to miss the cows and the dogs and the ponies as well. If I’m honest, I wish I wasn’t going.”
Since her father broke the news that Ramsay Macdonald, a wealthy if minor noble with a house about an hours’ ride north of Edinburgh, had accepted the offer of his daughter, Kenna managed to go through sadness, upset, irritation and anger in three days. On the fourth, today, she seemed to return to her normal chipper self, which let William Moore breathe easy.
He tried to let her out of chores this morning, to pack, but Kenna refused, saying that her time with the animals was almost over, and she’d rather forget a few pieces of dress, or a brush, than not be with them on the last few days of her life at Fort Mary. William just smiled and nodded and let her be.
“What sort of clothes do you think I’ll need? I assume that of a summer, the city will be hotter and dirtier than the air up here.”
“It’s not so different,” he said. “It’s still Scottish air, lass. If you were going to London I’d tell you to take a sachet of perfume and herbs and one of those masks doctors used to wear during the Death.”
She laughed her copper, cheerful laugh for the first time in almost a week.
“But, no, I canna say it’s much different. It’s lower and a little less misty I suppose, but you’ll like the city. Lots of life, lots of people. I haven’t been back down for twenty-some years, but I can’t imagine the English have done much harm to the place.” In the back of his mind, William knew what he said was a lie. He couldn’t allow himself to believe it though, for his sake as much as his daughter’s. “The food’s the same, of course, you’ll be dining in a Laird’s estate, so I think you’ll have a great deal of new to get yourself used to. Having servants for one thing.”