Sound of the Heart

by Genevieve Graham

  CHAPTER 8

  On the Run

  The rain was both a refuge and a nightmare. It fell in frozen sheets, forcing Dougal and Aidan to cup their hands around their eyes so they could scout the land. They lay motionless for ten horrible minutes, during which they saw the solid lump of Joseph’s body on the ground by the wall’s opening. One soldier stooped and hoisted Joseph onto his shoulder then carried him back into the prison. Half a dozen soldiers still milled around the broken wall, pointing and stomping in the mud with annoyance, but seemed unwilling to go chasing through the storm for anyone. The escapees stayed flat behind the tall grass, waiting.

  Finally, just when Dougal feared he might get sucked into the mud if he didn’t move, the soldiers turned back toward the yard, passing one by one through the hole. The last two glanced behind them, scanning the open field, but their eyes passed safely over the hidden Scots. Dougal blew out his breath and lowered his brow to the ground with relief.

  “Where do we go now?” Aidan’s voice was hushed, unsure.

  Dougal took a moment before lifting his head again so he could look at the boy. When he did, he was struck by the fragility of the young, pale face. His blond hair was plastered onto his skin, muddy and wet, until it was close to Dougal’s own black shade. Mud smeared his face but his lips were chalky white, hinting at blue. Any sparks were gone from Aidan’s sad blue eyes. Dougal felt an impulse to grab the boy by his upper arms and shake him, shake the sense into him. We’re free, lad! We survived! but instead he looked away. He was free, too, but by watching the boy, Dougal was drawn into the bone-deep misery threatening to suck the life from Aidan. Joseph was gone. John was gone. Andrew was gone.

  But this was no time for grieving. Nor was it time to celebrate. It was time to concentrate on survival. Dougal shuffled up onto his elbows but kept low, wary of soldiers returning. He huffed out his breath and ran his hand over his face, wiping rain from his line of vision so he could survey the ground surrounding them. It was flat and marshy, providing little more than the occasional shrub or clump of grass as a hiding place. Beyond that, Dougal could see a flooded ditch, possibly a hundred feet across. It looked manmade, like a moat. Grass grew on the opposite side and a dark line of trees beckoned from beyond.

  “Can ye swim?”

  Aidan shook his head, his mouth pulled down at the corners.

  “Well, I can,” Dougal said. In fact, Dougal swam like a fish, as had his brothers. He loved the water. What he needed now was a way to get Aidan across with him. There would be little risk of being seen in the water even if a soldier deigned to come that far. The rain would dimple the surface until it was impossible to see much of anything. “Have ye a good grip?”

  Aidan stared, mute, then slowly nodded.

  “Good. Now . . .” Dougal glanced around, scouting the best route to the water. He pointed to a shrub, then more grass. “Ye must be quick, aye? First to there, then there. We’ll get to the water bit by bit.”

  “We’ll . . . swim?” Aidan asked, eyes wide. “But I’ll drown.”

  “No, ye’ll never. Ye’ll hold me, is what ye’ll do. Now go to that bush there. Now! Run!”

  Aidan scampered across the marsh like the rabbit he so resembled. He crouched by the shrub, making himself almost invisible among the branches. Dougal skidded to a stop beside him a moment later, and through a zigzag journey between spots, they eventually ended up at the edge of the ditch. They lay flat again, looking down into the moat.

  The water roared under the deluge, sparkling silver and black with the dancing rain. Dougal assessed the distance, factoring in his own dwindled strength and Aidan’s added weight. It would be damn cold, too. But the challenge sparked something within him.

  “Stay here,” he said.

  Aidan seemed more than happy to oblige. He stayed on the ground, watching with increasing panic as Dougal slipped over the edge and splashed quietly into the ditch. Curious about the depth, Dougal let himself sink then pushed up like a frog when his feet touched the murk at the bottom. Ten, maybe twelve feet, he estimated. Not too deep, but deep enough. His head broke the surface and he shook the hair out of his eyes. Aidan’s white face stared down at him, mouth agape.

  “Brr!” Dougal exclaimed. He grabbed a stray root to anchor himself in place, then grinned up at Aidan. “It feels wonderful to be alive, does it no’? Come on then.”

  “What? Me? In there?” The boy shook his head. “I canna go in there.”

  “Sure ye can. Ye’ll ride on my back.”

  “No I won’t.”

  “Come on.” He held his hands up, curling his fingers in invitation.

  “No.”

  Dougal peered down the waterway, but there was no bridge, no path, no other way. The opposite bank looked very far away, gray as mist through the storm.

  “Right. Well, I’m goin’. Ye might as well head back then. This is the only way.”

  For a moment, Aidan looked as if he might cry. He did the same as Dougal had, glancing both ways along the water, then across to the other side, searching fruitlessly for any other option. Finally, he stared back at Dougal. He swallowed. “Dinna drop me.”

  Dougal smiled again. “Dinna let go. Come on now. We’ve no’ got all day. Pull yerself over the edge an’ I’ll catch ye.”

  Aidan hesitated, then took a deep breath and inched forward, sliding on his belly through the mud. The boy had the courage of a lion, Dougal thought, and reached for the slender form as it came toward him. Aidan yelped as his body hit the cold water.

  “Climb on board, lad. Here. Wrap yer arms round my neck, but dinna choke me. If ye do that, we’ll the both of us sink like stones. All ye need do is hold on an’ let me move. Right?”

  Aidan nodded quickly, then did as Dougal said, clambering onto his back and hugging his neck.

  “A wee bit looser, aye?” Dougal asked, his voice slightly hoarse. “Relax yer arms. Just hook yer hands together.” He felt the pressure ease slightly around his neck and Aidan’s weight settle against his back. When the balance seemed right, he shoved off the edge and started swimming toward the other shore.

  The arm around his neck jerked tight until Dougal felt Aidan’s face press against his own head. Every muscle in the boy’s body shook and small peeps of terror escaped his lips.

  “Stop that! Let go before ye drown us both, ye fool,” Dougal growled, and the grip relaxed a little. “Ye’ve faced an entire army of cannon-firing sassenachs, and now ye panic? Trust me, lad. I’ll get us there safe if ye’ll let me.”

  Aidan’s vibrations never stopped and his teeth chattered so loudly in Dougal’s ear it sounded like a woodpecker at times, but at least they reached the other side still attached to each other. As soon as Dougal shoved him up and over the opposite bank, Aidan collapsed and vomited into the grass. Dougal stared at him, shaking his head, then collapsed beside him. Dougal’s chest heaved with exertion. It had been farther than he’d thought, and he was weaker than he’d imagined, but he’d made it. They’d made it.

  “Nothin’ would have happened,” he said, puffing through the words.

  Aidan wiped his mouth, then glanced at Dougal. His blue-toned lips twisted into a sheepish attempt at a smile. “Aye, well, I’ve never swam before.”

  Dougal snorted. “Ye didna swim this time, either.” He lay on his back, breathing hard for the next five minutes, letting his eyes close. He felt exhilarated with a temporary sense of freedom. When his heartbeat had slowed to a regular rhythm, he sat up, but not before he’d cast his eyes back across the water and checked for any witnesses. Satisfied, he turned to Aidan. “Right. Time to go,” he said. “An’ the next time I say ye will be fine, believe me, aye?”

  The boy nodded, then lifted his eyebrows in an unexpected show of disdain. “If ye’re right, I will.”

  With a chuckle, Dougal rose and led them toward the next concealing shrub. Their destination was a thin but promising forest. After leapfrogging carefully for a bit, Dougal decided they were out of range and sp
rinted into the dark shield of trees. Aidan ran at his heels, ducking under dripping branches when he reached the woods.

  The forest was still but teeming with invisible life. Dougal felt its energy pulsing all around. Rain shushing on leaves had forced any animals into hiding, but he sensed them there. Their familiar, almost forgotten presence was so comforting that tears filled his eyes and blurred his vision. For so long he had been in the company of men and only men. His surroundings had been cold and hard, hungry for his soul. Here, cutting paths through these strange woods, climbing around fallen trees and tumbled rocks, he breathed in life. The deeper they went into the trees, the stronger he felt.

  Aidan panted behind him, doggedly following his steps. Dougal slowed and eventually stopped in a small clearing sheltered and fenced by trees. He bent in half, wheezing in breaths and trying to slow his racing pulse. The rain had stopped, but water still pattered against wet, shiny leaves. He stood upright again and a drop landed on Dougal’s nose, making him smile. He sat on the ground and leaned against an ancient oak, groaning as his legs finally rested. He had been so thrilled to taste freedom he had barely felt the burning in his muscles as he’d run. Now everything hurt.

  Aidan sat nearby, curled into a ball at the point where a birch had split into three trunks. “I dinna think I’ve e’er been so tired,” he said quietly.

  Dougal watched him, saw the boy’s eyelids had almost closed, saw the droop of his chin toward his chest. “It’s been a long day, lad. Go to sleep.” He met the boy’s eyes. “Ye’ll be safe. I’ll keep watch.”

  “But you—”

  “I’ll sleep when ye’re done.”

  Aidan gave him one last, weary smile, then closed his eyes. He was sound asleep before Dougal could say anything more.

  Night closed in two hours later, and Aidan awoke, shivering.

  “Have a good sleep?”

  “N-n-n-no,” Aidan muttered, then moaned as he stretched out his legs.

  “Come here, lad. It’s too dark to find our way through the woods. We’ll have to sleep here. I’ve dug in these leaves an’ found a few not soaked through, but there’s no’ enough for a fire. We’ll use what we can for a blanket.”

  Not that they could chance lighting a fire even if there was enough dry tinder to raise a spark. Neither of them dared send a smoke signal to any curious Englishmen. So there was little they could do besides move continuously or stay close together, feeding the other what little warmth they had. Dougal gave up trying to stay awake after a while, and the two of them nodded off, leaning back to back, pressing their sides against the biggest tree they could find.

  It was the crows that woke them, distant but distinct, shattering the stillness with cries that sounded like screeching soldiers. Dougal and Aidan awoke at the same time, leaping to their feet so leaves showered off them.

  “C-C-C-Christ,” Dougal stuttered, shuddering with the cold.

  Aidan hugged himself, then clicked his tongue with annoyance. “’Tis only c-c-corbies.”

  “Aye, well, it’s good they woke us. The sun’s up an’ the fort will ken we’ve gone. Now that the storm’s gone, they’ll come after us. We’ve no time to waste.”

  “And if we run, we’ll warm up,” Aidan grumbled.

  As if Dougal’s mood had inspired it, the sun shone all day, drying their clothes and raising their spirits. They stuck to lesser used paths for miles, staying close to the line of the Thames, but far enough that they avoided any possible meetings. If they followed the Thames, Dougal realised, they’d eventually have to reach London. At least from there he’d have some idea of where they were. They ran without stopping as often as they could, needing to put distance between themselves and Tilbury. Dougal was relieved to learn Joseph had been wrong. Aidan wasn’t slow at all.

  It took two days before the stench of London reached them. They smelled the city before they saw it, shadowed by a low black fug of coal smoke. It hung over the city like a sweaty cloud, sullenly independent of the rest of the sky. Sewage was the least of the odours. Beneath that the heavier, cloying tang of sickness was weighed down by the stink of rot, decaying flesh both animal and human. The city was a miasma of stink unimaginable to most, but it hardly bothered either Dougal or Aidan. They had lived among it on a smaller scale for months.

  About a mile outside the city, Aidan and Dougal dropped onto their backs in a tall field of grass, trying to prepare themselves for whatever lay ahead. They were weak and close to starving, having eaten nothing but seeds and berries they’d found along the way. There was more traffic now; horses and buggies travelled the main road, and with them came the threat of highwaymen. Worse than these were the footpads, cold-blooded and desperate criminals who would butcher a person for the sake of a couple of shillings without the slightest tweak of conscience. Dougal was well aware that if he and Aidan ran into this kind of trouble, they might not be strong enough to fight back. Not that they had anything for the creatures to steal, but they wouldn’t know that until they checked, would they?

  “I’m so hungry I dinna feel it anymore,” Aidan muttered, staring toward the city.

  His voice was sad and weak. It had sounded that way ever since they’d lost Joseph. Dougal watched the boy’s face, wishing there were something he could do. Grief was heavy in his own heart as well. He had liked Joseph. But seeing Aidan’s agony only reminded him of how lost he felt without his own brother. So many needless deaths. It was a difficult enough life without having to battle continuous loss.

  “We’ll find food soon,” Dougal assured him. “An’ ye’ll start to feel better. About everythin’. Aye,” he said, seeing the doubt pool in Aidan’s clear blue eyes. “Ye will. O’er time.”

  A bird called from far away, then another, and Dougal started to wonder if the sound was actually a bird, or rather someone screaming. London loomed before them, offering . . . what? What were they getting into? He’d visited Edinburgh a long time before, and it had been a big city with big-city troubles. But it hadn’t carried this heavy layer of foreboding over it. Or maybe it was just that Dougal now saw threat in every shadow.

  “Should we wait for dark before we go in?” Aidan asked.

  Dougal shook his head. “I reckon we should see it in daylight first. We’ll jus’ go canny. Stay quiet like. Maybe we willna stay at all, only find a meal or two.” He twisted his face in a comical expression of disgust. “I hope the food tastes better than it smells, aye?”

  Aidan smiled vaguely. “I’m hungry enough to eat it either way.”

  CHAPTER 9

  London

  The cloud overhead was dark, but the city was darker. Dougal hadn’t seen any soldiers in over a day, so he made the remainder of the walk easier by following the regular road into London. It bustled with activity, jingling and banging with horses and carriages that barged through without waiting for the travellers to move aside. More than once he and Aidan were splashed by the rush of narrow metal wheels bumping through mud puddles. Houses began popping up along the sides of the road, and Dougal shoved Aidan out of the way once, in time to avoid being hit by slop as it was dumped from an upstairs window. Coming into the actual city, the cobblestone road was thick with mud, and the gutters ran with all sorts of refuse. As they walked past the first few buildings, they had to step around a woman squatting in her skirts at the side of the street, concerned neither with modesty nor with the call for a chamber pot.

  Aidan’s eyes were huge, his grimace tight with distaste. He glanced toward Dougal. “The smell,” he muttered.

  “Breathe through yer mouth. The entire place is like a chamber pot ne’er emptied.”

  “An’ it’s so . . . loud.”

  Dougal nodded and grimaced as he stepped over something he thought might once have been a cat. Flesh seemed to move under a layer of maggots, and flies buzzed past Dougal’s face, furious at having been disturbed.

  “Aye. It is that. We’ll keep goin’. Maybe it’ll get better.”

  Aidan swallowed. “Or may
be it’ll get worse.”

  Some of the tall stone buildings, for Dougal couldn’t make himself see them as houses, leaned in a gentle slant over the road, looking precariously down as if curious. Their brickwork appeared to be dangerously loose, and chunks were missing here and there, leaving gaping black holes like missing teeth in their place. Children ran screaming through the street, their faces smeared with filth, shouting curses Dougal had never even considered using. And he wasn’t usually particular about his wording.

  A woman in a faded red gown, barely holding its shape over wide, bouncing hoops, spotted them and approached Dougal as if she knew him. She was probably young, he thought, but time had had its way with her, carving her down so she was thin as a branch from a silver birch tree, with skin almost the same hue as the bark. She wore a yellowed white wig and her lips were painted tomato red.

  Aidan took a step back when she came close. “What’s wrong wi’ her?” he whispered, his expression horrified.

  “Wrong?”

  “Her face! What’s wrong wi’ her skin an’ all?”

  “I dinna ken,” Dougal said. He’d never seen a woman dressed this way and it felt almost intimidating, the way she walked closer. What was it about her that spooked him? He stared openly, glued to her features by some grotesque fascination. She didn’t seem to mind. In the moment before she touched his sleeve, he realised what it was and stepped away. Her eyes. Her eyes, outlined in thick black, were dead. He’d never seen dead eyes on a living woman. They were horrible to see.

  She misread his expression. Instead of turning away, she drew closer, smiling conspiratorially. “Care for a little fun, my lad?” she purred.

  Dougal was used to people with bad teeth, but this woman didn’t have that problem. She had no teeth at all. He’d seen that with old women, but not one this young. It seemed to have affected her cheeks and chin. They rolled inward, making those dead eyes seem to pop out even more. She ran a long, pink tongue over her lips and flared her pinched nostrils as she looked him over appreciatively.