“I’d do better going overland through Fife,” he muttered, swigging down the last of the ale. “I just need a fyking horse.”
Three quick bites demolished the pasty as he left the tavern to begin the trek back to Edinburgh. He wondered if there was some other way to enter the town other than through the Netherbow Gate with its ghastly trophy.
* * *
Feeling refreshed after soaking in the tub, Jewel decided to leave off the bindings. She donned a clean, if rumpled, shirt, then the trouzes, doublet, hose and boots. Dressing in male clothing was simpler and faster than struggling into gowns and petticoats, but she’d have to wait for her hair to dry before perching the apprentice’s cap back on her head. The morrow would be soon enough to try on frocks.
She made her way downstairs where she and Gray were introduced to Beatris’ husband. Her first impression of the tall, handsome Quinn Guthrie was that he was exactly the kind of husband Beatris deserved—thoughtful, courteous, educated, with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I’m pleased to make yer acquaintance, Mr. Guthrie,” she said, stifling the urge to congratulate Beatris on an excellent choice. Not that women had any choice when it came to marriage. The reality was depressing and served to increase the dread that her parents were probably still busy finding a suitable mate for her.
“Please, ’tis Quinn,” he replied, ushering them into the parlor. “We enjoy visitors. Ye must tell us about Ayrshire and its towns and villages. I expect ye saw many interesting sights on yer journey.”
“Aye,” Gray replied, clearly taken by Quinn’s friendly demeanor. “Our Highlanders knew the route and kept us safe.”
“I see ye had the common sense to travel incognito,” their host said to Jewel, inviting her to sit in the upholstered sofa.
“Aye. Murtagh insisted,” she replied, sinking into the plush cushions. “I have to admit the garments are comfortable.”
Quinn’s smile turned to a frown as he took a seat across from his guests. “About yer wee Highlander army. They’ve asked if they can camp for the night in the meadow beyond our yard.”
Jewel’s throat constricted. Surely Murtagh and his cohorts wouldn’t be expected to move on so quickly. “Is there a problem with their request?”
Beatris forced a smile. “Nay. ’Tis common land anyway and we have no objection. However, our neighbors might protest.”
“Ye mean the Covenanters next door?” Gray asked.
“Aye,” Quinn confirmed as Jane climbed onto his lap. “They’re suspicious of strangers, believing all Highlanders are Royalists and Papists.” He covered his daughter’s ears and whispered, “Ye ken Michael is Richard Cameron’s brother? The firebrand’s death at Airds Moss has made tensions worse, especially now his head is on public display here in Edinburgh.”
Jewel exchanged an anxious glance with Gray. He nodded, clearly of the same mind that they must keep secret their father’s role in the raid at Airds Moss, especially with the Guthrie bairns present.
Quinn continued. “There’s also unrest about the impending trial of David Axton and others accused in the assassination of Archbishop Sharp. Some factions are clamoring for their execution, but then we’ll have more Covenanter martyrs.”
Jewel smiled as Aristotle leapt onto Gray’s lap and curled up, tail thumping, but her thoughts were in turmoil. They’d have to be careful as they toured the town. She wished Murtagh and his comrades weren’t moving on to the Highlands.
“The preachers will use those deaths to rekindle the spirit of rebellion,” Beatris explained.
“At conventicles,” Gray remarked.
“Aye,” Quinn confirmed. “But they hold their illegal gatherings in out-of-the-way places, so ye willna have a problem in the town.”
“Except for the folk next door,” Jewel replied.
Catherine climbed on to Jewel’s lap. “Maggie’s nice, though,” she whispered. “She calls me Kate.”
“Maggie?” Gray asked.
“The youngest Cameron,” Beatris explained softly. “She’d make a wonderful friend for Catherine if…”
“And they’ve a visitor,” Meaghan interrupted. “He’s handsome.”
“I forgot about him,” Beatris admitted, frowning at her daughter. “He’s a Highlander, from Blairgowrie.”
“Ye didna mention him,” Quinn said with a hint of annoyance.
“He arrived yesterday, but I was busy getting things ready. Meaghan’s right. He does seem different from their usual visitors.”
“Still, better to avoid the family altogether.”
“Aye,” Beatris agreed. “’Tis a strange thing, though. When I told him one of my visitors was named Jewel, he mentioned his name is Garnet. It suggests he’s a redhead, do ye nay agree? But his hair is as black as night.”
The conversation continued, but Jewel lapsed into a reverie, conjuring an image of a handsome, black-haired Highlander swathed in plaid. Jewel and Garnet, Garnet and Jewel. He loves me, he loves me not…
* * *
Darkness had fallen by the time Garnet arrived back at the Camerons. No sooner had he stepped over the threshold than Donald greeted him with a scowling frown. “Where have ye been? We waited, but ye’ve missed supper, and Mrs. Cameron is none too pleased. Ye’ll get nothing now.”
Normally a patient man, Garnet lost his temper. “I walked all the way to the docks and back, searching for ye,” he retorted, returning his friend’s glare. “My feet are blistered, my back is sore, and I dinna appreciate been scolded like a bairn.”
Donald gaped. “I…”
Angry words continued to pour from Garnet’s mouth. “I should ask where ye and Michael went off to without an explanation. What was I supposed to do? Chat with Mrs. Cameron?”
Both men turned to the kitchen doorway when someone tried unsuccessfully to stifle a snort. “They went to the castle,” Maggie said, emerging from the shadows.
“Now, Margaret,” Donald replied, clearly annoyed. “’Tisna yer business, nor should ye pass such things on to other folk.”
Garnet scratched his head, perplexed and irritated that Donald evidently didn’t want him to know about the excursion. “Ye should have told me. I’d be interested in touring the castle.”
Even in the dark hallway, it was clear Donald’s face had reddened. “’Twasna exactly a tour…”
He hurried away without providing any further explanation.
“Naught for it but to go to bed on an empty stomach,” Garnet whispered to Maggie.
Shaking red curls, she beckoned him into the kitchen and thence to the back door. “I tried to save ye a wee bowl of broth,” she whispered. “But Mam made me finish it.”
“Ye’re a darling,” he replied, tousling her hair.
Maggie pointed to the yard. “They’re cooking something yonder.”
He inhaled, noticing for the first time the aroma of roasted meat. There were lantern lights in the meadow beyond the yard. And tents. “Gypsies?” he asked, licking his lips.
“Nay. Landers. Daddy says they’re ethens and hairtics. Came with next door’s visitors.”
It took Garnet only a moment to realize the campers were fellow Highlanders. He wasn’t sure how that could be since the Guthries’ guests had apparently traveled from Ayrshire, but his spirits lifted. They wouldn’t let a man go hungry. “I’m going to pay them a visit.”
Maggie pulled at his sleeve. “Daddy’s forbidden it.”
Garnet was in no mood to be forbidden anything. He hunkered down beside her. “Stay here. Dinna tell a soul where I’ve gone.”
She nodded conspiratorially and disappeared back into the house.
Disappointment
The Guthries’ cook prepared a delicious supper of roasted capons and plentiful vegetables which her son served. Jewel enjoyed the food, and the conversation was lively and sophisticated. However, she missed the easy camaraderie of the nighttime gatherings around the campfire. She worried, too, that Murtagh might leave early on the morrow. The Highlanders were gruff me
n who hid their emotions, but she knew the parting would be difficult for them. “We should say goodbye to our escort,” she said to Gray. “And ascertain if and when they plan to return.”
The elderly Highlanders had always been a part of their lives in Kilmer. Her father wouldn’t be the only one who would miss them if they didn’t return.
Gray stood. “Aye,” he agreed, evidently sharing her sentiments.
Quinn and his wife exchanged a brief anxious glance, but Beatris nodded as she came to her feet. “Ye should wear yer cap. Meaghan can bring it for ye.”
The eldest daughter quickly obeyed.
“Can I go?” Catherine asked.
Jewel’s instinct was to deter the bairn, but she took note of the fact both parents ignored the request, and the lass didn’t repeat it. A memory surfaced of her mother doing much the same thing when she voiced unreasonable demands. As Meaghan handed over the apprentice cap, it struck Jewel that the three Guthrie offspring were pleasant lasses, anxious to please. It reminded her of her own happy childhood growing up with her brothers. They’d been taught respect, but not in a heavy-handed way. Gray was right that she might learn a few things from Beatris about raising bairns.
Quinn provided a candle lantern. She and Gray made their way through the yard and across the meadow to the encampment. A cheer went up when they arrived and camp stools were quickly provided. She’d never really given much thought to the important role these men had played in her family’s life. Tears welled at the prospect of never seeing them again.
“I wish we were traveling on with ye,” she announced. “Just to make sure ye come back to Kilmer.”
“Aye,” Gray agreed. “Edinburgh holds little interest for me, except to see the castle.”
A long period of silence followed. Jock offered them food which they declined. “Beatris fed us well,” Jewel explained, eyeing Murtagh who seemed preoccupied.
If she’d learned anything about Highlanders over the years, it was that if they had something to say, they’d eventually divulge it. So, she waited.
“Weel,” the blacksmith began, “yer parents did say…”
He stopped abruptly and stood with his comrades to confront a tall man who emerged from the shadows.
The newcomer hesitated, hands raised to indicate he had no malicious intent. “Garnet Barclay,” he declared. “From Blairgowrie.”
Jewel gripped the sides of her stool. The flames revealed Meaghan’s assessment of Barclay’s swarthy features to be correct. Handsome was an understatement. The hair that swept his shoulders was indeed as black as night, what she could see of it beneath his wide-brimmed Puritan hat, just one aspect of an odd, ill-fitting outfit—frayed knee breeches and hose topped by a well-worn overcoat, with sleeves that were too long, the lace on the cuffs tattered. He was either a poorly paid clerk or an overdressed peasant, not Garnet the Highlander she’d conjured in her reverie.
A peculiar disappointment constricted her throat.
* * *
Garnet scanned the strange group around the campfire—a bevy of elderly men and two young lads—and wondered if he’d made an error in judgement. His arrival had created an uneasy atmosphere. “Er…they told me in the house there were Highlanders camped out here, so I thought…”
One of the men stepped forward, hand outstretched. “Welcome, laddie. I’m Murtagh. I’ve passed through Blairgowrie many a time, though it’s been a few years.”
Garnet accepted the bone-crushing handshake as another man fetched a camp stool.
“Sit thee doon,” Murtagh insisted. “We’ve meat left if ye like.”
Garnet hoped he didn’t look overeager. “I am a mite hungry. I’ve had a long walk.”
Murtagh brought a skewer with chunks of roasted meat.
Garnet risked a glance at the two lads who’d so far said nothing. They might be twins. It was hard to tell in the firelight. One of them gripped his stool like a cornered rabbit seeking a means of escape. Something about his wide eyes caused worrisome stirrings at the base of Garnet’s spine. He despised men who preyed on boys. It was the main reason for his troubles in Amsterdam. Publicly rebuffing the advances of a powerful man had led to a false accusation of theft—and murder.
He gave what he hoped was a reassuring nod, but the lad averted his gaze.
When he bit into the delicious meat, the other youth unexpectedly lurched forward, hand outstretched. “Gray’s the name. ’Tis inexcusably rude, but my brother and I have to leave. Enjoy yer food.”
Garnet barely had time to accept the firm handshake when the shyer lad picked up a candle lantern and they were gone, swallowed by the night. “I hope I didna intrude,” he said, his mouth full. The lads must be the visitors to the Guthrie household, though he’d understood one was called Jewel—surely a lass’s name. He was strangely disappointed—the coincidence of their names was meaningless if Jewel was a lad.
“Nay, ye didna,” Murtagh replied a little too heartily. “Ye said ye walked far?”
“Aye. We’re trying to arrange passage on the galley to Arbroath. I went to Leith to find out when we depart.”
“Ye’re bound for Blairgowrie?”
“Me and my friend, Donald.” He deemed it wiser not to mention a last name, just in case rumor of illegal preaching activities had become common knowledge.
“Why go by sea?”
“Donald’s afraid of encountering difficulties, especially in Fife.”
Murtagh chuckled. “We might be auld men but we can handle a wee bit o’ trouble.”
“Ye’re bound for the Highlands?”
Scraping nails through the stubble under his chin, Murtagh averted his eyes. Garnet got the feeling the man regretted revealing where they were headed, though he couldn’t imagine why. This was too good an opportunity to miss. “We’d be honored to travel with ye,” he said. “However, I’ve no horse. I’m just recently arrived from Rotterdam and find myself without the necessary funds.”
Murtagh slapped his thigh. “I wondered about yer peculiar togs.”
The clothes on his back and a spare shirt were the only clothing Garnet owned, but the reasons for that had to remain his secret. “Er… about a horse.”
“Yer pal, Donald, did ye say? Are ye both Covenanters?”
Garnet might have known a Highlander wouldn’t beat about the bush. Murtagh would also sense a lie, so he took a chance. “Me? Nay. I’m from a Catholic family.”
Not the whole truth, but close enough.
“And Donald?”
“He’s an associate of the Camerons and shares their views.”
“But ye trust him?”
How to respond? Without Donald’s help, he’d be dead. “He’s been a good friend to me.”
“’Tis settled then. Ye can travel with us. But ye must procure horses.”
Garnet wiped his hand on his woollen breeches and offered it. “I welcome the chance to get to know ye better—and the lads,” he said.
Murtagh accepted the handshake with a noncommittal grunt.
* * *
“Weel,” Gray exclaimed when he and Jewel regained the Guthries’ back door. “That was strange.”
“Aye,” Jewel agreed, not able to put into words the conflicting emotions swirling in her heart. It was useless to pretend she was growing into a sensible adult when she’d harbored silly fantasies about a man, just because his name was Garnet.
He was a guest of zealots. Did he preach at outlawed gatherings? He was admittedly a strikingly handsome man, but his clothes…
Quinn opened the door to their knock, holding a candelabra aloft. “Beatris and the lasses have gone to bed. I’ll light yer way.”
Jewel blew out the candle in the lantern and they followed their host.
By the time she had prepared herself for bed in the boudoir, Gray was snoring softly, sprawled across the bed furthest away from hers. “Men are so lucky—they can fall asleep at the drop of a hat,” she muttered, feeling a nagging need to share her conflicted feelings. “T
he house could tumble down around him. He’d probably just yawn and tell me I’m being foolish.”
She curled up in her own bed and fell asleep resolved to ask her mother if there were garnets in the Scottish Crown Jewels.
* * *
When he left the campfire an hour later, Garnet was surprised to arrive at the door of the Cameron house at the same time as Donald and Michael. “Ye’ve been out,” he said, just for something to say.
Michael scowled. “None of yer business.”
Garnet shrugged, no longer surprised by his host’s rudeness. “Weel, I’ve good news,” he told them as Michael unlocked the door. “The Highlanders camped in the meadow are heading north and they’ve given leave for us to go with them, Donald, if we can procure horses. We’ll be home before the galley sails for Arbroath.”
Michael lifted the candle lantern his wife must have left alight on the sideboard. Garnet had expected Donald to be pleased, but he startled when the flame cast its flickering glow on Michael’s eerie smile. The man’s next assertion was even more unsettling. “I’ll take care of procuring horses.”
Garnet removed his hat and scratched his head as Cameron made his way up the stairs—with the lantern. “What do ye make of that?” It was too dark to see Donald’s face, but he sensed his friend’s nervousness. “Are ye nay pleased?”
“Oh, aye,” came a half-hearted reply. “When do we leave?”
“In a day or two, I suppose.”
“Find out exactly when,” Donald insisted before stalking off up the stairs.
“They’re planning something,” he muttered, trying to recall if it was his turn to sleep on the floor. “I should have kept my mouth shut.”
If he’d done exactly that in Amsterdam…
Spying
A vague memory of something Murtagh had said startled Jewel awake after a fitful night spent dreaming of foreign-looking jackets, lace cuffs and Puritan hats. She slid out of bed and shook Gray awake. “I think Murtagh might be persuaded to take us into the Highlands.”
Highland Jewel Page 5