d nothing, though, save ely hesitant. Additional prodding by Roger elicite sing only $hrug, and after a few moments, they returned to the cutting, Pau
of ale or water. The weather was cool, thank God, but r the occasional swig end of the job, Roger rking like, that made the sweat run free, and at the over his head, gasping ;jook a last drink, and then poured the rest of his water
with the welcome chill on his heated skin. aid down his ax and eased a Swe6raicb?" Kenny I
"You'll come ben for a bit, e far side of the his back with a groan. He jerked his head toward the pines on th
Meadow. 6cmy wee house is just there. The wife's awa' to sell her pork, but there's fresh buttermilk in tile spring
&Oger nodded, smiling.
"I win then, Kenny, thanks."
nd his beasts; Lindsay had two milch-goats and a He went with Kenny to te creek, while P-oger sow. Kenny fet _rn water from a small nearby
penned -ched the manger. ed cracked corn stacked the hay and threw a fork" into the goats'
"Nice pig," Roger said politely, waiting while Kenny pour 'ged car and a into the trough for the sow, a big mottled creature with one, rag
nasty look in her eye - the pig a narrow -a viper, and nearly as fast," Kenny said, giving
,,Mean as I meant to look. "Near as Godalmighty took my hand off at the wrist yesterday.
take her to Mac Dubb's boar for breeding, but she wasna inclined to go."
1,, Foger agreed. -Not much ye can do with a female who's not in the moo(
'I, _ side to the other, considering.
Kenny wobbled his head from on, to sweeten them, aye? That's a at's as may be - There are ways
-Och, well, th
,ap-toothed grin, and ught me," He gave Roger a g
trick my brother Evan ta ner of the shed) that gave off the sweet Pun nodded toward a barrel in the cor
gency of fermenting corn.
820 Diana Gabaldo.
"Aye?" Roger said, laughing. "Well, I hope it works, then,- He had an involuntary vision of Kenny and his imposing ivif
e, Rosamund, in bed together, and wondered in passing whether alcohol played much part in their unlikely marriage.
"She's a terror f "Oh, it'll work,- Kenny said with confidence.
mash, is that one. Trouble is, if ye give her enough to improve h r or the sour-
0 she canna walk just so verra well. We'll need to bring the boar toe dispOsiti n,
her, instead, when Mac Dubb's on his feet."
"Is she in season? I'll bring the boar tomorrow," Roger said, feeling reckless, Kenny looked startled, but then nodded, pleased.
"Aye, that's kind, a Smehraicb." He paused a moment, then added casualty, "I hope Mac Dubh is on his feet soon, then. Will he be well enough to have met Tom Christie?
"He hasn't met him, no
-but I told him." "Oh? Oh, Well, that's fine, isn't it?"
Roger narrowed his eyes, but Kenny looked away.
His sense of unease about Christie persisted, and seized by a sudden impulse, Roger leaned across the hay and grasped Kenny by the hand, startling the older man considerably. He gave the squeeze, the tap on the knuckle, and then let go.
Kenny gawked at him, blinking in the beam of sunlight from the door. Finally, he set down the empty pail, carefully wiped his hand on his ragged kilt, and offered it formally to Roger.
When he let go, they were still friendly, but the situation between them had altered, very subtly.
44 Christie, too," Roger observed, and Kenny nodded. "Oh, aye. All of us."
"All of you at Ardsmuir? And-Jamie?" He felt a sense of astonishment at the thought.
Kenny nodded again, bending to pick up his bucket. "Oh, aye, it was Mac Dubh started it. Ye didna ken?"
No point in prevarication. He shook his head, dismissing the matter. He'd mention it to Jamie when he saw him-assuming Jamie was in any shape to be questioned then. He fixed Kenny with a direct look.
"So, then. About Christie. Is there anything wrong about the man?" Lindsay's earlier constraint had disappeared, now that it was no longer a matter of discussing a Masonic brother with an outsider. He shook his head.
"Och, no. It's only I was a bit surprised to see him here. He didna quite get on sac well wi' Mac Dubb, is all. If he had another place to go, I wouldna have thought he'd seek out Fraser's Ridge."
Roger was momentarily surprised by the revelation that there was someone from Ardsmuir who didn't think the sun shone out of Jamie Fraser's arse, though on consideration, there was no reason why this shouldn't be so; God knew the man was quite as capable of making enemies as friends.
What he was asking was plain. Kenny looked about the goat-shed, as though seeking escape, but Roger stood between him and the door.
The Fiery Cross 821
matter," he said, finally, shoulders slumping in capitulation. "No great
see)" iOnly Christie's a Protestant,
"Aye, I see " Roger said, very dryly. "But he was put in with the Jacobite prisg m0" ers. So, was there trouble in Ardsmuir over it, is that what you're tellin
Likely enough, he reflected. In his own time, there was n
C h I*cs and the stern Scottish son o love lost between s of John Knox and his ilk. Nothing " on and if you got right ots i e e spot of religious warfare-
re lik --d better than a we
wn to it, that's what the entire Jacobite cause had been.
Take a few staunch Calvinists, convinced that if they didn't tuck their blandown the chimney and bite their toes, and bang tets tight, the Pope would nip t loud to the Virgin ihem up in a prison check by-jowl with men who prayed ou
it. Football riots would be nothing
y aye, he could see to it, numbers Ing equal.
then-Christie, I mean?" "How did he come to be in Ardsmuir,
Kenny looked surprised.
och, he was a Jacobite-arrested wi' the rest after Culloden, tried and imnsoned e?" It wasn't impossible, or even farfetched-po * CS -A Protestant Jacobit
bedfellows than that, and always had, It was unusual, though. aade stranger
;.t Kenny heaved a sigh, glancing toward the horizon, where the sun was slowlY sinking into the pines. N4acKc
,Come along inside then, _nzi,. If Tom Christie's come to the Ridge, ells ye all about it. if I hurry myself, ye'll be in suppose it's best someone t
Orne for your supper." home, but the buttermilk was cool in the well, as adRosamund was not at the buttermilk poured, Kenny Lindsay was good as vertised. Stools fetched and
his word, and started in in businesslike fashion. Christie was a Lowlander, uld have gathered as much .From Edinburgh. At the Kenny said; MacKenzie wo e city, with a good busitime of the Rising, Christie had been a merchant in th
ness, newly inherited from a hard-working father- Tom Christie was far from and determined to set up for a gentleman.
lazy, himself
With this in mind, and Prince TearlacYs army occupying the city, Christie had put on his best suit of clothes and gone calling on (),Sullivan, the Irishman harge of the army commissary. "Naebody kens what passed between
who had C contract to them, other than words-but when Christie came out, he had a
victual the Highland Army, and an invitation to dance at Holyrood that night." ink of sweet buttermilk and set down the cup, his musKenny took a long dr
tache thickly coated with white, He nodded wisely at Roger.
ubh told us were like, those balls at the Palace. Mac D
"We heard what they lery, wil the portraits of all the kings 0' of them, time and again. The Great Gal gh to roast an ox. The Scotland, and the hearths of blue Dutch tile, big enou
at folk who'd come to see him, dressed in silks and laces. Prince, and all the gre such food as he'd tell about." Kenny,s eyes grew And the food! Sweet Jesus,
round and dreamy, remembering descriptions heard on an empty stomach, His tongue came out and absently ticked the buttermilk from his upper lip.
elf back to the present.
Then he shook hims "When the Army left Edinburgh) ,Well, so," he said, matter-offactlY.
822 Diana Gabaldon
Christie cam' along. Whether it was to mind his investment, or that he meant to keep himself in the Prince's eye, I canna say."
Roger noted privately that the notion of Christie having acted from patriotic motives wasn't on Kenny Lindsay's list of possibilities. Whether from prudence or ambition, whatever his reasons, Christie had stayed-and stayed too long. He had left the Army at Naim, the day before Culloden, and started back toward Edinburgh, driving one of the commissary wagons.
"If he'd left the wagon and ridden one o' the horses, he might ha' made it," Kenny said cynically. "But no; he ran smack into a sackfW o' Campbells. Government troops, aye?"
Roger nodded.
"I heard tell as he tried to pass himself off as a peddler, but he'd taken a load of corn from a farmhouse on that road, and the farmer swore himself purple that Christie'd been in his yard no more than three days before, wi' a white cockade on his breest. So they took him, and that was that."
Christie had gone first to Berwick Prison, and then-for reasons known only to the Crown-to Ardsmuir, where he had arrived a year before Jamie Fraser, "I came at the same time." Kenny peered into his'empty mug, then reached
for the pitcher. "It was an old prison-half-falling down-but they'd not used it for some years. When the Crown decided to reopen it, they brought men from here and from there; maybe a hundred and fifty men, all told. Mostly convicted Jacobites-the odd thief, and a murderer or two." Kenny grinned suddenly, and Roger couldn't help smiling in response.
Kenny was no great storyteller, but he spoke with such simple vividness that Roger had no trouble seeing the scene he described: the soot-streaked stones and the ragged men. Men from all over Scotland, ripped from home, deprived of kin and companions, thrown Re bits of rubbish into a heap of compost, where filth, starvation, and close quarters generated a heat of rot that broke down both sensibility and civilness.
Small groups had formed, for protection or for the comfort of society, and there was constant conflict between one group and another. They banged to and fro like pebbles in the surf, bruising each other and now and then crushing some hapless individual who got in between.
"It's food and warmth, aye?" Kenny said dispassionately. "There's naught else to care for, in a place like that."
Among the groups had been a small obdurate knot of Calvinists, headed by Thomas Christie. Mindful of their own, they shared food and blankets, defended each other-and behaved with a dour self-righteousness that roused the Catholics to fury.
"If one of us was to catch afire-and now and then, someone would, bein' pushed into the hearth whilst sleepin-they wouldna piss on him to put it out," Kenny said, shaking his head. "They wouldna be stealing food, to be sure, but they would stand in the comer and pray out loud, rattlin' on and on about whore-mongers and usurers and idolaters and the lot-and makin' damn sure we kent who was meant by it!"
"And then came Mac Dubb." The late autumn sun was sinking; Kenny's stubbled face was blurred with shadow, but Roger could see the slight soften-
The Fiery Cross 823
Ina that came across it, relaxing the grimness of expression that accompanied F--- reminiscence.
mclsay s
4 ,Something like tile Second Comingi was it?" Roger saict. He spoke half unr his breath, and was surprised when Kenny laughed. eady. No, man, they'd "Only if ye mean some of us kent Sbeumas ruaidh air
ought him by boat. Ye'll ken Jamie Roy doesna take to boats, aye?"
"I'd heard something of the sort," Roger answered dryly. cHe staggered ccWhatever ye heard, it's true," Kenny assured him, grinning.
the cell green as a lass, vomited in the corner, then crawled under a bench stayed there for the next day or two. t for a time, watching to see who Upon his emergence, Fraser had kept que :)rn and had been both
who and what was what. But he was a gentleman b4 , landers. The laird and a fierce warrior; a man much respected among the High nt, and raen deferred to him naturally, seeking his opinion, asking his judgeme
weaker sheltering in his presence. I 'a nod"ALnd that griped Tom Christie's arse like a saddle-gall,' Kenny sall ,
44see, he'd got to thinking as how he was the biggest frog in the I ng wisely.
nd, aye? 59 Kenny ducked his chin and puffed his throat, popping his eyes in
21ustration, and Roger burst out laughing.
-Aye, I see. And fie didn't care for the competition, was that it"'
Kenny nodded, off-hand. his wee band of salva-
491t wouldna have been so bad, maybe, save that half h tell stories. But tioners started creepin' off from their prayers to hear Mar Dub
the main thing was the new governor." ft, replaced by Colonel Harry Bogle, the prison's original governor, had le n experienced soldier, who Quarry. Quarry was a relatively Young man, but a he viewed the had fought at Falkirk and at Cul[oden. Unlike his predecessor,
-and he knew Jamie Fraser 'Prisoners under his command with a certain respect
by repute, regarding him as an honorable, if defeated, foe.
"Quarry had Mac Dubh brought uP to see him, soon after he t00k.c0muldna say what happened between them, but soon it was mand at Ardsmuir. I co ke, Mac Dubb
of course; once a week, the guards would corne and ta pper with a matter imself, and he would 90 take a bit of su
off to shave and wash h needed."
Quarry, and speak to him of whatever was ger guessed. He was forming "And Tom Christie didn't like that, either,' Ro nt-and envious. Corna comprehensive picture of Christie; ambitious, intellige re-advanpetent himself, but lacking Fraser's fortunate birth and skill at warfa
tages that a self-made merchant with social aspirations might well have _n. Roger felt a certain sneaking resented, even before the catastrophe of Cullode on for the merely mort .al. sympathy for Christie; Jamie Fraser was stiff cOmPetiti with
Kenny shook his head, and tilted back to drain his cup. He set it down
a sigh of repletion, raising his brows with a gesture toward the jug, Roger waved a hand, dismissing it. . how did that happen? You "No, no more, thanks. But the Freemasons y gone. He would have to
said it was to do with Christie?" The light was nearl ouldn't let him walk home in the dark-but that was no matter; his curiosity w
leave without learning what had happened.
824 Diana Gabaldon
Kenny grunted, rearranging his kilt over his thighs. Hospitality was all very well, but he had chores to do as well. Still, courtesy was courtesy, and he liked the Thrush for himself, not only that he was Mac Dubb's good son.
"Aye, well." He shrugged, resigning himself. "No, Christie didna like it a bit, that Mac Dubb should be the great one, when he felt it his own place by right." He cast a shrewd glance at Roger, assessing. "I dirma think he kent what it might cost to be chief in a place like that-not 'til later. But that's naught to do with it." He flapped a hand, waving off irrelevancy.
"The thing was, Christie was a chief himself; only not just so good at it as was Mac Dubb. But there were those who listened to him, and not only the God-naggers."
If Roger was a trifle taken aback at hearing this characterization of his co-retigionists, he disregarded it in his eagerness to hear more.
"Aye, so?"
"There was trouble again." Kenny shrugged again. "Small things, aye, but ye could see it happening."
Shifts and schisms, the small faults and fractures that result when two land masses come together, straining and shoving until either mountains rise between them or one is subsumed by the other, in a breaking of earth and a shattering of stone.
"We could see Mac Dubh thinking," Kenny said. "But he's no the man to be telling anyone what's in his mind, aye?"
Almost no one, Roger thought suddenly, with the memory of Fraser's voice, so low as barely to be heard beneath the whining autumn wind. He told me. The thought
was a small sudden warmth in his chest, but he pushed it aside, not to be distracted.
"So one evening Mac Dubh came back to us, quite late," Kenny said, "But instead of lying down to his rest, he came and summoned us-me and my brothers, Gavin Hayes, Ronnie Sinclair ... and Tom Christie."
Fraser had roused the six men quietly from their sleep, and brought them to one of the cell's few windows, where the light of the night sky might shine upon his face. The men had gathered round him, heavy-eyed and aching from the day's labors, wondering what this might mean. Since the last small clash-a fight between two men over a meaningless insult-Christie and Fraser had not exchanged a word, but had kept each man to himself.
It was a soft spring night, the air still crisp, but smelling of fresh green things from the sprouting moor and the salt scent of the distant sea; a night to make a man yearn to run free upon the earth and feel the blood humming dark in his veins. Tired or not, the men roused to it, alive and alert.
Christie was alert; wary-eyed and watchful. Here he was, called face-to-face with Fraser and five of his closest allies-what might they intend? True, they stood in a cell with fifty men sleeping round them, and some of those would come to Christie's aid if he called; but a man could be beaten or killed before anyone knew he was threatened.
Fraser had spoken not a word to start, but smiled and put out his hand to Tom Christie. The other man had hesitated for a moment, suspicious-but there was no choice, after all.
"Ye would have thought Mae Dubb held a bolt of lightning in his hand, the
The Fiery Cross 825
ay th ough Christie." Kenny's own hand lay open on the e shock of it went thr
them, the palm hard as
,mble betweenclosed, and Ke horn with calluses. The short, thick fingers led slowly rmy shook his head, a broad grin creasing his face. [cur
t was Mac Dubb f out that Christie was a Freemason,
611 dinna ken how i ound
t he knew it. Ye should have seen the. took on Tom's face when he realized [bu
that Jamie Roy was one besides!
nny explained, seeing the question still on Roger's It was Quarry did it," Ke
66 imself, see."
1ace. He was a Master h of a small military lodge, composed of A Master Mason, that Was, 'and head died recently, though, the officers of the garrison. One Of their members had red the of the required seven. Quarry had conside
leaving them one man short n on the matter, inously exploratory conversatio
The Fiery Cross Page 115