Thistles and Thieves

by Elizabeth Preston

  The first thing Juliette noticed about each woman was their hair, or lack of it. Their heads were uncovered, so it was likely they were unwed even though both were clearly older than her. Mayhap by as much as five summers. Their short-cropped hair style was most strange. ‘Twas most unusual for a woman to wear her hair in a style that was shorter than a man’s. Each strand on their heads would have been no longer than a half-inch, a style she’d not seen on a lass before. Long hair was what every woman craved, and the longer, the better. These days, many maidens added false tresses, wanting their plaits to fall to their thighs and thus be admired.

  Juliette studied the women’s clothing too. They dressed identically in peasant-style tunics. The women appeared happy, chatting together, smiling at every chance, and clearly enjoying each other’s company.

  Tam stepped out from behind cover. Both women raised their heads, clearly startled. They dived toward each other and reached for their dirks.

  “No need to fear, maidens. We’re just passing through, and we mean you no harm.”

  Juliette stepped away from the trunk and went to stand beside him. “He’s harmless,” she said, trying to put them at ease. “Unless you are a bad person, of course.”

  One of the women threw a smile her way. “We’ve not come across you or your husband in this forest afore.”

  Juliette shook her head. “He’s not my husband. We were shipwrecked, you see, and now we are making our way south to the king’s village in Dingwall.”

  “Shipwrecked?” she said, looking suitably impressed. “My goodness. Praise be to God that you are alive to tell the tale.”

  “Yes, quite.” Juliette returned her smile and decided that she liked this woman. There was something about her easy acceptance and her openness that reminded her of Vienna.

  The other woman was different. Her smile was not so welcoming. And she only had eyes for Tam. “The lass is lucky indeed to have such a strong Highlander to protect her.”

  Juliette decided that the second girl was far less likable. There was an earthiness about her, a sensual quality that would appeal to men. Her appearance was likely the cause of her confidence and her nerve.

  “What are you two good ladies doing deep in the Caledonian Forest?” Tam asked. “We’re a long way from the nearest town. Are you both from some remote farm?”

  The one Juliette liked best spoke again. “Nay. We’ve had to stop for a short while in the forest, tis all. We’ll be moving on through when we can.” Then she introduced herself as Mariot and called the troublesome one Isabel.

  Tam wouldn’t let it rest. “The forest is no place for two women alone. There are outlaws about, and travellers, and wild beasties too. All manner of dangers lurk in this forest. You women should not be here alone.”

  Isabel licked her lips, and then whispered in a coy voice, “We’re not afeared, milord. We’re not the fearful type.”

  Juliette snapped back, “You might not be afeared, but the dangers are real nevertheless.”

  She turned her back on Isabel, deciding to address all her talk to the much nicer Mariot. “Are you camping nearby, Mariot?”

  “Aye. We have a nice dry cave not far from here. Tis homely. We’ve covered the hard ground with lots of pine, so we feel like we’re sleeping on straw.”

  Juliette moved closer. “Have you been in the same spot for long?”

  “Nay, not a sennight yet.”

  Isabel moved toward Tam, coming close enough to touch his arm. Juliette wanted to bat her hand away. “Lord, why don’t you come to our cave and see for yourself. You can share our eventide meal. Mariot and I are good foragers and have food to spare.”

  “Thank you. We would be most grateful for the meal and the company.”

  Juliette tried to look past his wide smile. He could have asked her if she’d wished to join the women. This could be some sort of trap, although truth-be-told, she did not feel one bit threatened.

  “Tam, a word aside, if you please,” she said, making eyes at him, leading him from earshot.

  “We know nothing about those two. This could be a trap. They might belong to a band of robbers. The two women are used as decoys, designed to lure unsuspecting travellers.”

  He raised his brows. “Not bad for a Sassenach. But nay, they’re nuns, plain to see. Did you not notice their hair?”

  Juliette felt herself bristle. “Of course. But what are nuns doing in the wilderness? Alone?”

  “Let’s ask them, shall we?”

  Juliette strode toward the kindly Mariot, doing her best to pretend that Isabel was not making dewy eyes at Tam. “I can’t help noticing your hair, Mariot. Are you a nun?”

  “Meant to be, but I escaped before taking my final vows. Same with Isabel. She wasn’t suited to the life of a nun either.”

  Juliette took no convincing of that fact. It was hard to imagine anyone less suited to holy orders than her.

  “You’ve run away, have you?” Tam asked.

  They nodded. “There are two more of us back at our cave—two more runaways. There’s Joscelin, and she likes to be called Sister Joscelin because she did want to be a nun. But the abbess couldn’t abide Joscelin and kicked her out before she could take her final vows. And there’s Florie.”

  They followed the two back, chatting like larks over each other, pleased of the company. On the way back, Juliette learned that one of the women back at the cave, the one they called Florie, was with child. Clearly, Florie did not suit religious orders either.

  Their cave was smart and expansive, almost as big as the cave Juliette had shared with the outlaws. Tall as a thin pine tree, the third novice, Joscelin, raced out of the cave to greet them. Her authority was stamped into every charging movement she made. All of the women had the same shaved heads. But in Joscelin’s case, her hair was beginning to grow back. Yellowish tufts crowned her head in a halo. Although Joscelin wore peasant clothing too, there was something about her tunic that stood her apart. It was fresher looking and in a better state of repair with no visible rents. Although still in the garb of a peasant, Joscelin was more smartly dressed. Her pinched authoritative eyes glared at them without fear or reserve.

  “Who have you brought to camp?” she barked, as if she was the one in charge, and the others were subservient to her.

  The hairs on Juliette’s arm stood up. That was not the friendliest of greetings although Joscelin’s wariness might be justified. They were four women alone, after all. And now two of her followers had brought a fearsome Scottish warrior back to their camp.

  Wringing her hands, Mariot shuffled her feet in the dirt and mumbled, “Sister, this is Tam the Highlander, and his friend, Lady Juliette. She is English, like us. These godly folks are also crossing the forest, just as we are.”

  “Tam is a strong man,” Isabel interrupted, “as is clear to see. He will hunt for meat to feed us all.”

  So Joscelin was their leader, and the one to appease.

  “You may call me Sister,” Joscelin said. Her words sounded pleasant enough, but there was an edge to her voice that belied her true feelings. “Of course, we are more than able to forage for ourselves. But if you are to stop with us for any length of time, you will need to bring food to our hearth. We do not have enough to share without your contribution.”

  Her attitude wasn’t exactly charitable, but then Juliette had met many nuns in her ten and eight summers, and most were downright unlikable. Her French tutor had been a nun from a nearby abbey. Sister Alphonso was not a woman to be mucked with. As a child, she soon realised that she’d best not confuse her French tenses or conjugate her verbs incorrectly because Sister Alphonso’s punishments were protracted and severe.

  Sister Joscelin studied Juliette’s clothing. “Your name is Juliette?”

  “Tis.”

  “You have a fine
voice, yet your dress is muck-ridden and torn. We might be in the wilds, but is that reason enough for letting yourself go and for looking so bedraggled? You have been given every privilege, yet still you let your parents down.”

  Juliette’s eyes flared. It took her a while to calm and corral her temper. “I was shipwrecked and then taken hostage by outlaws—mean Irish ones. One of the outlaws was a nasty Irish woman called Ness who put me into a muddy creek and set me to work catching eels.”

  Sister Joscelin smiled with satisfaction. “We all must take our turn to do such lowly tasks. No one is highborn enough to shirk, not around here,” she warned. “We all must work, no matter how much the job chaffs our skin or stains our clothes.”

  Juliette stared at Sister Joscelin’s tunic. She could see no chaffed skin or stains on her clothing. Her tunic was better tailored than the gowns Isabel or Mariot wore.

  “And what unpleasant job have you done lately, Sister, in that tunic the colour of clotted cream?” Juliette’s question was left to hang as Tam’s voice rose above hers.

  “Where are you fine lad— nuns headed?”

  Isabel gave him a coy smile. “We’re not nuns anymore, milord. You must treat us as regular maidens.”

  Sweet Mariot broke in. “We’re staying put for now, abiding here a while, till our friend Florie is ready to travel.”

  Isabel and Mariot untied their gathering baskets and Sister Joscelin peered inside. The others stood around, almost holding their breaths, awaiting her verdict.

  “Poor pickings today, ladies, hmmn? You needn’t have rushed back.”

  Juliette felt her innards squeeze. “I think they have done rather well. They have found Burlap roots and Dandelions and—”

  Sister Joscelin glared. “I am in charge here. You might be highborn but—”

  Tam walked between them. “Of course, you are, Sister Joscelin. Juliette was only defending your wee workers. Juliette has a generous heart. She sees the best in everyone.” He turned to Sister Joscelin and amended his statement. “She sees the good in nearly everyone.”

  “Hmmn,” Sister Joscelin muttered, sounding far from convinced.

  “Where are you ladies headed?” he asked again, clearly finding their journey odd and their destination unfathomable.

  “To where we are needed most,” Joscelin said. “We intend to do God’s bidding. He will guide us forth.”

  “Hmmn,” Juliette repeated, mimicking Joscelin’s tone. “So, you’ve no idea where you’re headed then?”

  Tam shot her a warning look. Then he spoke loudly, too loudly, as if to drown her out. “I’d love to hunt for you all, Sister. Twill be my honour.”

  Just then, the fourth novice wandered out of the cave. She was indeed with child, her stomach as full as a harvest table. That babe would be born any day now. So, this was the reason they were holed up in their cave, just like outlaws. They were outlaws of a sort—outlaws of the church.

  Again, Tam looked surprised. This fourth woman had also been a novice. Her head was shaven too. She stepped forward and opened her arms. Juliette warmed to her immediately.

  “I’m Florie. Welcome,” she said, giving Juliette a squeeze. It wasn’t easy hugging her with her giant tum in the way, but no matter. Her kindness and generous spirit made up for Sister Joscelin’s quarrelsome manner. Almost.

  “I’ll go hunting with you, Tam,” flirty Isabel offered. “I’m not afeared of sharp spears and rugged Highland men.”

  There was much that woman did not fear! If Juliette had been a lot younger than her ten and eight summers, she’d have tussled with Isobel right now on the ground. But, alas, those days were gone for good.

  Juliette did not like the way Isabel wore her tunic either. Her fingers itched to straighten Isabel’s grown, to pull it up and stop it from falling and exposing her bare shoulder.

  “You are a huntress?” Juliette asked. Clearly, she was. As plain as day, she was stalking Tam right now.

  Isabel ignored her question. Instead her eyes followed Tam. “I’m keen to learn to hunt.”

  Sister Joscelin missed nothing. Her gaze moved from Tam to Isabel, and then back to Juliette. A slow, knowing grin lit her cheeks. Mayhap she’d realised she might just be able to offload the lusty Isabel onto Lord Tam. Just like that, one of her problems would be solved.

  “Aye, come along on the hunt if you wish, Isabel,” Tam said, inviting the spikey redhead along.

  Juliette gave him a warning look, but he wasn’t watching. Instead, he was eying the come-plunder-me Isabel. Surely, she was the worst novice the abbey had ever seen.

  Pregnant Florie let her breath out in a rush. The sigh sent the lovely Mariot rushing to her side. “Have you got the pain again, sweetheart?”

  “Just a twinge. I shall go back inside the cave and rest.” She waddled off into the dark.

  Juliette looked from one woman to the other, wondering if any of them had birthing experience. They were a long way from help. Florie’s time was drawing near. “Are any of you midwives, or mayhap have a little experience . . .?”

  Joscelin sighed, as rudely as possible. “Do we look like midwives to you? Haven’t I just told you we are nuns?”

  Isabel jumped in quickly, as if keen to clarify the situation for Tam. “Some of us were almost nuns, but not anymore.” Then she winked, in case he was under any misapprehension that she was chaste, or that she in any manner acted in a holy way.

  But Tam ignored her. Instead, he said, “Juliette delivered a lamb not long ago. The lamb was lying in an awkward position too. Saw it with my own eyes. Very impressive, it was.”

  Juliette beamed, his compliment making her cheeks glow. But Joscelin remained unimpressed. “Well, if Florie gives birth to a lamb, then we’re in luck. Otherwise I don’t see Juliette as an asset.”

  Joscelin turned, and then she stormed toward the clutter of hunting tools piled in a heap by the hearth. The layers of her smart robe fluttered like wings behind her back. Juliette felt an overwhelming urge to poke out her tongue, but Tam was watching, and, with Isabel hovering, the last thing Juliette needed was to appear churlish or young.

  Joscelin dumped an armful of tools into Isabel’s hands: bird snares, a basket for trapping fish, and even a sling, the type that was almost impossible to use. Juliette knew this from experience. They had one of those slings at home. She and her sisters had played with the thing, trying to master the art. But after many days practicing, none of them could hit a pest or pray, not even a snail, and certainly not a moving bird.

  Isabel put the tools into a bag that she slung onto her back. Joscelin went back into the cave and came out again carrying a bow. She brought it forth with reverence and offered it to Tam. “I take it that you are skilled in the use of the bow?”

  Tam’s body stiffened, and he wore a pained expression suggesting he’d weathered an insult. “Of course, I am skilled in the use of the bow. What sort of warrior would I be if I was unable to use the simplest of weapons?” With bow in hand, he called for Isabel to follow. Then, together, they stomped off back into the forest, leaving Juliette behind.

  Chapter 18

  Juliette sat at the mouth of the cave beside her new friend Mariot. Mariot was stroking Florie’s hand and fussing, as if little acts of kindness were able to ease Florie’s pains. Some women had these strange pains well before they birthed, almost as if in preparation for the event.

  Juliette studied Joscelin. The leader tied a knife to her belt and then grabbed a gathering basket. Is she leaving? That raised Juliette’s hopes. Mayhap she was off into the forest too.

  “Use your roots and meagre forage to make a broth,” Joscelin ordered. “I’d like something hot to drink on my return.”

  Once she was far from earshot, Juliette turned to her friend. “I don’t like Joscelin much.”

  Mario
t shrugged, as amicable as ever. “She looks after us as best she can.”

  “I don’t need looking after, and I bet you don’t either.”

  Mariot went quiet for a moment or two, then said, “We don’t have a Tam to protect us. Instead, we have Sister Joscelin.”

  “Why does she insist on being called Sister still? You’ve left the abbey.”

  Mariot smiled. “We were all called Sister once, but the difference is, we wanted to leave the abbey, whereas Joscelin wanted to stay. Our Superior was determined to boot Joscelin out, and she got her way.”

  Juliette grabbed a jug of water and helped wash the grit from the roots, and then she chopped them into smaller pieces.

  Mariot stood and stretched her back. “I’ll just stoke the fire, and then we’ll have tea. We’ve wild mint drying inside.”

  “Mariot, why’d you choose to go into the abbey in the first place? I suppose you went in as a child and knew no other life.”

  “Oh, I had no say in the matter. My father put me in four summers ago because he couldn’t pay his tithe.”

  Juliette frowned. “That tithe is steep and everyone must pay it too, rich and poor.”

  Mariot sliced the roots and put them aside, awaiting the boiling water. “It’s ten percent of all earnings, I believe.”

  Juliette went in search of the dried mint. “He gave you to the church, just like the tenant farmers give sheep or goats to cover their taxes.”

  “Yes, except I was less useful. I didn’t produce milk for cheese. The abbey didn’t get themselves much of a deal when they got stuck with me.”

  Juliette returned with three wooden bowls and a small amount of mint. “Did you hate all that praying and getting up through the night just to pray some more?”

  “It wasn’t the life I wanted for myself. I’d always dreamed of marriage and children.” She gazed off into the distance. “I should like to be a farmer’s wife one day.”