“Who?”
“Geordie. My son Geordie!”
“Jesus.”
“I killed the poor little things so I did and tellt him not to dae it again and he laughed at me.”
Elizabeth felt sick. People had to drown kittens because with most she-cats kindling twice a year, you’d be knee-deep in cats if you didn’t. If only there was some way you could geld a quean cat like you could a tom. But you did it as fast as you could, not…not crucifying them.
“He wis eight then. I’ve never liked him since, though he’s my eldest. It was Jamie I loved and I let him run off tae the Reverend Gilpin and I hoped…I hoped…” She sighed and wiped her eyes with the half-made shirt again.
“If he’s laughing at me, is he planning to kill me?” asked Elizabeth again, her mouth dry but her heart beating hard under her stays. “Is he?”
Maud shook her head and then she said, very very quietly, “Maybe.”
And Elizabeth thought, I will not go to my death like a cow or a kitten, I will kick and fight, by God I will.
Maud had lifted her face and was staring at Elizabeth. Her lips were parted and her eyes fixed on something in the distance. “Jamie did it for money to get the boys to Carlisle?”
“I think so, Mrs Burn.”
Wednesday Night 18th October to Thursday 19th October 1592
Although the night was long, it was as difficult as Dodd had expected to find Lady Widdrington’s horse. He knew where most of the infield horse pastures were, of course; he had raided all across this country in his teens. But there were a lot of them because you didn’t want too many horses in one place. And in the dark it was hard to avoid the men on guard and hard to make out the horses. And then, of course, you had to ride to the next place.
Well, they’d have the next day as well. After the first couple of tries they established a routine. Dodd and Young Henry found the pasture, then they sent Anricks round to distract the guards by pretending to be lost and asking the way. At one place they had checked the horses and found nothing but hobbies and they stood and waited, sweating, for Anricks. They would have gone to his rescue but then they heard a cracking crunching sound of a patient losing a tooth and despite the tension and the impossibility of the job, Young Henry smiled.
A little later Anricks turned up, looking smug. “I used the sweet oil of vitriol,” he explained. “It loosens men’s tongues like booze does. He told me where they’ve taken the woman.”
And so they rode a few miles across country to the infield of a tower that was once owned by Pringles and now languished in the ownership of two sisters who hated each other and would not be reconciled. Dodd would never have thought of looking there. And there they found Lady Widdrington’s jennet, minus her expensive side-saddle of course, looking a little offended at being asked to pasture with such very low-bred hobbies.
“So she’s in the tower,” said Dodd, trying to see it against the night sky. There was a quarter Moon but it was ducking in and out behind clouds. “Ay, well, of course she is.” Nobody was going to make their job easier for them, after all. And it would be nice if they could nip her out quick and if nobody shot her while they did it, of course.
They had moved down the valley and into a little shelter for the sheep in the corner of the worst of the three infields.
“I’ll ride for Jedburgh, get my men, and come back here…”
“Ay, yer father will let ye, will he?”
Silence. “I could perhaps gain entrance as a stranger, lost in the hills and then open the barnekin,” said Anricks slowly.
“Mebbe,” allowed Dodd, “but they’ll have her in the tower itself, second floor and the ladder taken away to be sure she disnae take it intae her head to run for it herself. They might chain her, but I think not, she’s a lady and they willna think she’s dangerous.”
There was a dispirited silence. Annoyingly, Dodd found himself thinking that this was where the Courtier would have been useful because he was the one who could think of ingenious unlikely plans.
“On the other hand, Geordie Burn himself is out with his men at the pass into this valley, waiting for Sir Henry,” offered Anricks.
“Ay, o’ course he is.”
Come on, Dodd thought to himself, there’s a way of doing it. I’m a better man than the Courtier any day, come on.
Inspiration failed to strike. From where the Moon was, it was now two or three in the morning and dawn only three hours away. If they were going to do anything, they had better do it soon.
Anricks yawned jaw-crackingly. “Gentlemen,” he said, “I’m in need of sleep. How about we get a couple of hours each, and think about it again in the morning?”
Young Henry caught the yawn from him. “But she’s there and we’re here…” he protested.
“Ay, ye’re right,” Dodd said, “and if ye have a way to get past the barnekin and intae the tower and out again and away wi’ out getting her killed, I’m yer man.” He waited. “Do ye?”
“No,” came a reluctant growl.
They put their horses in amongst the others, on the grounds that hobbies looked alike from a distance and probably nobody had counted them. Then they drew lots for the middle watch which fell to Dodd, and he settled himself in the corner next to Anricks and went to sleep instantly.
He woke instantly as well, knowing he had slept three hours and not one. Anricks was squatting there, hollow-eyed. “I took the middle watch as well,” he said. “I couldn’t sleep at all.”
Strange. Dodd felt rested and refreshed as he often did when he slept out and not frowsty and bad-tempered as he normally did after a night in a proper bed. Young Henry was still fast asleep, looking touchingly young under his spots. There was a strong smell of farts in the little wooden sheep shelter and Henry shifted and trumpeted again. Dodd found himself sniggering.
“I’m afraid I think we need to send Widdrington back for men and conduct a full assault…” said Anricks with a sigh.
“Nay, they’d ainly kill her.” He felt glass-headed but he had an answer to the quandary, produced somewhere while he was asleep. “What de ye think tae this?” he said as Anricks took another apple from his pack and gave it to Dodd who started eating it. “It’s mad enough for the Courtier, but mebbe it could work.”
He explained his idea and then explained it again when Young Henry woke up. It was nerve-wracking and could easily go horribly wrong, but at the worst, it would just give the Burns one more prisoner. At best it could solve everything.
They needed to move fast while Geordie Burn was still out lying in wait for the Widdringtons; it wouldn’t work if he was there. At least the weather was cooperating. It was horrible, dark, foggy with a continuous bone-chilling mizzle that was only a slightly lighter grey as the Sun came up somewhere behind the clouds.
Wednesday Night 18th October to Thursday 19th October 1592
Elizabeth and Maud shared the ancient bed that smelled of mildew and mice just as much as the rest of the place. Elizabeth took her stays and kirtle off but put her gown back on again, glad of Sir Henry’s vanity that liked his woman to have a black velvet gown lined in silk and edged in fur, though only coney.
Maud was quiet while Elizabeth knelt to say her prayers and even said an amen to them, then they put the curfew over the glowing turves and climbed into bed. The curtains were too rotted to draw, the wind came through the arrow slits but Maud had brought blankets of her own weaving which were good and dense and still oily from the sheep and once they had three of them over them, they started to warm up.
Archie came at night and brought a cleanish jordan to replace the other one and took the ladder away. The wind was howling at first but then died down and there was the quiet whisper of rain falling. They could hear the hobbies moving about in the ground-floor chamber, the men talking quietly or snoring in the first-floor chamber. They were alone in the upper chamber, und
er the rafters.
Elizabeth had said her prayers mechanically. She was beginning to wonder why she said them at all, though she remembered the sensation that had filled her when she shouted at God about the boys. Was He punishing her for that? It depended on what you thought God was like, really. Was He a spiteful old man like her husband as He often showed Himself in the depths of the Old Testament? Or was He a strong young man with a charming way to Himself, a man who had much more to Him than that, who was also God? She remembered how gripped she had been when she first read the Gospels, how the personality of Jesus had come through to her in the beautiful muscular language of Tyndale’s translation, how it had become a pleasure not a duty to converse with such a person. And then Carey and then…all this. And she was tired of it. She would have spoken to Our Lady in the old way if she could, but if you read the Gospels and the Acts you could see that Jesus’ mother was hardly mentioned at all and wasn’t so very important. So it was all about Jesus Himself, and the trouble was that He was a man as well as God, and you couldn’t expect a man to care about who a woman loved. Could you?
She dreamed a long confusing dream in which she was arguing with a small brown-faced middle-aged Jewish woman, a long complicated argument she couldn’t remember, and then the Jewess hugged her and kissed her and told her not to cry, that she would see to it.
She woke up still crying, which was annoying. She managed to stop and dry her face before Maud woke, got up and knelt again to pray and found herself thinking about Robin Carey again, in that sad dragging way from her heart which was probably what had made her cry. So she stopped and got up, dressed, got the fire sharpened up with some kindling and logs. That pig was probably gone off now, she thought with annoyance; how long have I been away? A week? And maybe Poppy has had her bairn by now?
Maud was awake, got up and pulled up her laces, put up her hair and pinned on her cap and then went grimly to the door and opened it onto empty space.
“Archie and Jemmy,” she shrieked, “come here.”
It was still half dark outside, foggy, raining, cold. There was something going on at the gate to the barnekin. “Archie!” she shouted again. “Bring me the ladder.”
After a little while, someone else brought it and she climbed down, paused when she saw by the light of two torches what was happening at the gate and then grinned. “Come on, my lady,” she shouted up at Elizabeth. “Come ben and look at this.”
Elizabeth emerged and climbed carefully down the ladder which was old and not very sound. She was fully dressed now, her gown on, she even had her low crowned best hat on over her cap, the one she had put on for Jamie Burn’s funeral, oh a hundred years ago.
Young Henry Widdrington was at the gate on a tired hobby, looking tired himself.
“The exchange has been done,” he explained patiently to Jemmy Burn who was staring up at him suspiciously. “Sir Henry paid the ransom last night and I’ve come to take Lady Widdrington home.”
Elizabeth was shocked. Sir Henry had paid it? Really?
“How did he get so much money at one time?”
“I told you,” said Young Henry. “He’s friends with Lord Spynie who’s a rich lord and gave him the money straight off so I’ve come to collect my lady. Geordie’s rich as Croesus and Ralph o’ the Coates will be back any day now from selling horses and, unless you’re thinking of killing her…”
Only Archie and Jemmy exchanged glances at that, in a way that made Elizabeth certain. The other Burns were indignant at the idea they might kidnap a woman and then fail to take the ransom when it was offered.
“What about where they were supposed to make the exchange?” asked Archie. “At the river and all…”
“I don’t know about that,” said Young Henry in a bored tone of voice. “I just know the thing’s been done and she’s to come home with me.”
“Well, we’d best wait for Geordie, any road, he’ll know the right of…”
“For God’s sake,” said Maud, stepping forward with all her maternal authority. “It’s obvious, they’ve made another deal and for more money. Let Lady Widdrington go, I’ll smooth it with my husband as soon as he’s back from Edinburgh.”
“Well but…”
“And I’m tired of her anyway, she can go back to her husband.”
Young Henry had her horse, Mouse, behind him as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Elizabeth took the horse’s bridle, gave her a quick stroke and a nuzzle and then looked at her back where there was a man’s saddle. It didn’t matter, she’d ridden astride when she was a lass and even if it was uncomfortable, she could do it. She mounted using the block, sitting sideways on the horse and then bringing her right leg up and over so her skirts and petticoats were under her and gave her some protection.
“Good-bye, Lady Widdrington, I’ll mind what ye said to me,” Maud said very deliberately. Elizabeth managed a bright smile and a wave to Maud before she turned her horse away.
“Good-bye Missus Burn, thank ye for yer hospitality,” she called in answer. Maud actually snorted at that.
Elizabeth’s heart was beating hard again as she followed Young Henry slowly down the muddy old path from the tower and down across the infield to the lane that led up to the moors by way of a small hill where there was something of a sheep shelter.
Two men came out to greet her then. One she knew at once as Simon Anricks; the other, she realised, was the bad-tempered saturnine Sergeant Dodd who was looking, as always, as if he had lost a shilling and found a penny.
She stared from one to the other and suddenly laughed. “You were lying?” she said.
Young Henry was looking absurdly pleased with himself. “I was. Now we have to ride back to Jedburgh…”
“All of us?”
“We’ll protect you.”
She didn’t like it, a long chase across country. “Why don’t I take one of the hobbies and ride the wrong way with Young Henry, south and west, and why don’t you, Sergeant Dodd, take my jennet, Mouse, and go to Jedburgh with Mr Anricks?”
There was a short silence and then, wonder of wonders, Sergeant Dodd cracked a smile. “Ay,” he said, “why don’t I? Though Mr Anricks should ride the jennet because I’d be heavier and they might see that.”
She smiled at him. “Me and Henry will go along the tops of the Cheviots and then come back to Jedburgh from the south. Maybe we’ll call at Ferniehurst on the way.”
She was hungry, hadn’t had any breakfast, but she was suddenly happy and excited. She had given them the slip and even if they caught her, she had tried. By God, it wouldn’t be her fault if they did catch her, either. And she thought Young Henry would have something to say about that.
She changed to Dodd’s hobby because he was a better horse than Anrick’s pony, with a warning from Dodd that he bit. Dodd rode Anrick’s horse with only a blanket because they were one saddle short and Anrick rode the shod jennet, who wasn’t happy about it.
Dodd and Anrick cantered off on the way up the valley to Jedburgh but Young Henry took her to the deep, dead bracken on the side of the hill where there were some outcrops to break the curve. They got the hobbies to lie down in it and then she lay down on her stomach behind him and found that she was well hidden, especially with the wet and the mist.
It was hard to stay still there as the damp slowly and steadily worked its way inward. But it was worth it. She heard the hoofbeats of Geordie Burn and his men as he rode back to the tower. Though she couldn’t see them for the mist and the rain, she heard the shouting when he got the news and then she had the pleasure of hearing them ride like the devil after Mouse’s shod hoofprints to Jedburgh.
She got up stiffly with Young Henry, mounted the hobby who stayed true to form and tried to bite her, and then rode south and west with him along the tops of the hills, where the wind blew the rain in folds like blankets and you couldn’t see a hand in front of your face
sometimes. Young Henry was a quiet clever guide, he took her along windswept hilltops and down wet slithering paths but avoided the worst places and the skree slopes. She was cold, she was wet, and she was hungry, but she felt happy.
***
Dodd rode into Jedburgh, up the Newcastle road, past the old abbey on the hill, with Anricks behind him and headed straight for the Spread Eagle. By the time Geordie and his bruisers arrived, they had had time to give the horses a brush down and get themselves some dinner. Dodd left the jennet in the yard so Geordie could see it when he came in, leaned back in a chair to make room for his stomach full of haggis, and put his boots on the table.
“Where’s the woman?” Geordie demanded as he came into the commonroom. “Where’s Lady Widdrington?”
“Och, I’m sorry,” drawled Dodd, “she isna here, she’s gone off wi’ her husband already.”
“She hasnae and ye know it, I met Sir Henry on the way in and he hasnae got her.”
“Och, has he not?” said Dodd, who was enjoying himself immensely. “Where can she be?”
“You know, ye bastard, and ye’ll tell me now.”
Dodd took his boots off the table, one two, and stood up. “Will I?” he said, “I dinna think so. And forbye I don’t know.”
Anricks had quietly moved himself to another table where he was busy delving into his pack again.
There was a moment of silence. It was a silence full of calculation while Geordie thought of the number of men he had with him and tried to work out what advantage Dodd thought he had. Dodd wasn’t thinking of that; he was thinking of where he was going to hit Geordie first, but another man, an older Pringle, pulled Geordie’s elbow and whispered to him, with a lot of nervous gesturing.
“Yer name’s Henry Dodd,” said Geordie, with his head on one side and his eyes narrowed.
“Sergeant Henry Dodd,” he corrected.
“You’re that Henry Dodd? The one who…?”
“Ay,” said Dodd gently, “What of it?”
A Chorus of Innocents Page 21