by Jan Constant
“Since the day of the murder,” Sir Robert supplied and taking his meaning went on impatiently, “She’s an idiot, man, and wouldn’t have enough sense to shoot. No - you can be sure that her sister got her out of the way in case the soldiery took a fancy to her. She’s a beauty, as I’ve told you.” The soldier seemed unconvinced, but Sir Robert was so confident and persuasive that he allowed himself to accept the obvious culprit presented to him and, giving the order to mount, took a curt leave of his host and led the way across the stone causeway to the mainland.
At first the troopers rode close to her, but as Anstey allowed the dejection she felt to show in the dispirited droop to her shoulders, their tension relaxed and they began to straggle. By the time they had left the castle a mile behind them they had accepted that she presented no danger and were so strung out on the rough road that when Anstey and the first of the escort rode under a clump of spindly trees, she was able to reach up, seize a low overhanging branch and by pulling hard on it and letting it go suddenly, spring it back in the riders’ faces. Before they had recovered their wits she had slipped off her horse and, slapping its rump, sent it careering along the track while she ran behind a rock and into a narrow fissure, hidden from view but familiar from her many visits to the croft to which it led.
Taking to her heels with the speed of desperation, she scrambled down the narrow path between high sides of overhanging rock until they opened out suddenly into a bay with the small croft house nestling against the circling cliffs. Mindful of the foolhardiness of her action, Anstey plunged on, not thinking of her own danger or that of her friends, only aware that she must have news of her brother before she left Scotland; perhaps for ever.
At the sound of her approach the clumsy door was opened and she slipped into the interior, blackened by generations of peat smoke. “Redcoats are after me, Catlin,” she said breathlessly to the small child regarding her. “If they come here, can you say you’ve seen no one?”
With her finger in her mouth the girl nodded, and at that moment they heard the sounds of approaching footsteps.
“Dear God, I shouldn’t have come,” murmured Anstey, appalled by the realisation of what she had done, “but I had to know about my brother - is he away?” Before the little girl could reply someone beat a tattoo upon the door, making the occupants stare at each other in dismay and without a word Catlin opened the door a narrow crack and slipped through.
“Have you seen anyone? A woman - a young man in a green suit?”
There was silence and Anstey could imagine Catlin shaking her head. Muttered oaths and shouted orders and the sound of falling shingle told her that the neighbouring cliffs were being searched, and then a frightened wail from the little girl made her catch her breath and start towards the door.
“Come out, Miss Frazer, or it will be the worse for the child,” called Captain Ward, his voice so grim and uncompromising that Anstey knew he meant his threat and, dragging the door open, left her refuge.
The English soldier gripped Catlin’s arm, the child’s frightened eyes fixed on the huge pistol in his other hand.
“Let her go!” Anstey cried sharply, hurrying forward and at once the girl was set free and the Captain calmly replacing the weapon in his belt.
“It wasn’t even cocked!” cried the Scots girl upon sudden realisation.
“We don’t make war on children,” she was told loftily.
“But - you do cheat.”
He shrugged indifferently as she bent over the girl who had flown into her arms. Anstey hugged her tightly and murmured soothingly against her hair while she suddenly realised to her surprise that the child was taking the opportunity to whisper to her.
“Your brother’s no’ away just yet,” came the slight voice. “My father will look after him - but he’s still out on the mountain.”
For answer Anstey hugged her closer and dropped a swift kiss on the smooth cheek.
“Come, Miss Frazer, we’ve lost enough time,” said the Captain, growing impatient.
As though to say farewell the child came closer, leaning against Anstey’s leg for a moment and the confiding gesture hid the slight movement and pressure as something was slipped into her riding-boot.
A meaning glance was exchanged before the child slid silently away and ran back to the croft on bare feet.
Anstey was led back to the head of the gorge and pushed impatiently into her saddle. James Ward, who had intercepted the gaze between them, mounted his own horse and rode to face her, taking her reins in his hand.
“You realize the danger you put that child in?” he demanded, his voice harsh. “Had we been the ogres you say we are, she could have been dead and her home a burnt shell by now.”
Anstey smiled sweetly. “But, Captain, I’ve been in your company and that of your excellent troopers long enough to realize that you are all models of virtue and kindness.”
His mouth tightened ominously and Anstey was intrigued to see that for the first time she had managed to disturb the tight control he kept on his emotions.
“Indeed, I am only puzzled as to how these wild stories of outrage and atrocities arose. With the examples before me I’d have supposed King George’s men more likely to chuck children’s chins and dangle babies upon their knees, than kill wounded men and burn helpless women in their houses.”
“Enough,” he said, abruptly. “Your own example is hardly to be lauded.”
For the moment she had forgotten to what he alluded and stared at him blankly, while he, reading her puzzled expression, snorted in derision.
“Don’t try that innocent expression with me, Miss Frazer,” he said. “I am well aware that you found yourself able to kill a man in cold blood.”
“What do you know - ?” she began hotly, caught unawares, only to break off abruptly, biting her lip.
“I know enough having read the sworn affidavits of Leo Smythe’s sergeant and troopers. That he entered Glentyre alone in order not to alarm you unduly, and that hearing a shot sometime later, they ran in to find you standing over his lifeless body with a spent pistol in your hand.” He regarded her coldly, his eyes like ice and his expression contemptuous. “Don’t attempt the excuse that he molested you, for not only was your dress quite undisturbed, but I’ve known Captain Smythe since our schooldays and am well aware that such an action would be totally beyond him.”
“Strange things happen, Captain Ward,” she remarked quietly, her voice trembling slightly.
“He had recently lost his wife in childbed - I assure you that he would have had not the slightest interest in any female.”
“You were not there,” she burst out.
“I refuse to listen further to your wild and groundless accusations. Indeed I feel it only fair to warn you against pursuing them. Captain Smythe was a very popular officer and well-liked by my men.”
Anstey remembered the open hostility she had seen on the troopers’ faces that morning and shivered a little, her shoulders shaking under the green jacket.
Captain Ward watched her, his face hard. “I have allowed you more leniency than I should,” he remarked. “It would obviously be wise to restrain your liberty and with that in mind I have a pair of hand-irons among the baggage. However,” he paused, having been satisfied to see the flicker of horror that had passed over her face, “as they would be uncomfortable and the road is difficult, I would be prepared to accept your word of honour not to make a further attempt to escape.”
Anstey avoided his eyes, gazing past him and out to sea, watching the purple islands silhouetted against the horizon before her eyes returned reluctantly to her near surroundings. “You have it,” she told him gravely, and felt a surge of excitement as she gave the promise she had no intention of keeping.
CHAPTER TWO
The midday meal was a hasty affair, eaten by the road beside a small stream that fed its brown peaty water from a spring high up on the nearby cliff. Anstey took her bread and cheese down to the hollow it had worn for itself and fi
nding a sheltered spot settled herself against a boulder and found, once seated, that she was out of sight of the English soldiers. Their voices faded to a, hum behind her and she found that by dint of imagination she could almost believe that the events of the last two weeks had not happened and that she and her brother Jamie were exploring the familiar countryside around Glentyre.
The thought of her brother brought to her mind the catastrophic events that had happened when the Redcoats arrived at her home and involuntarily she suppressed a groan and hid her head in her hands, wondering if she would ever see her family or Glentyre again.
Suddenly the food was tasteless and she tossed it to a circling seagull before bending forward to scoop up some water in the palm of her hand and savour the familiar taste of the peat it carried. A sound behind her made her stiffen and, still on her knees, she turned her head; Captain Ward was watching her, one foot on a rock, his elbow on his raised knee, and she wondered how long he had been there. By the stillness of his position she judged that he had not arrived recently and scrambled to her feet, hastily flicking away the signs of her recent tears.
“I must ask you not to go out of sight,” he said.
“We all need privacy at times, sir,” she answered, “but now I know how silent of foot you are, I shall take care that all know my intentions and so none can play the part of a spy.”
He flushed a little at the insinuation and straightened abruptly. “Pray have the goodness to rejoin my troop,” he commanded stiffly, his eyes on a point above her head.
Anstey considered him, her head on one side. “I notice that you have brought none of your men with you,” she commented, deliberately provoking. “Does that mean that you are one of these officers we hear about? Would you contrive to let me escape - if I paid you enough?”
She moistened her lips slowly and smiled in what she hoped was an enticing manner, aware that her action was somewhat marred by the masculine garments she was wearing. However recalling that most men found actresses who besported themselves upon the stage in boys’ parts attractive, she struck a pose and puffed out her chest.
Captain Ward’s reaction was unexpected. Striding forward so quickly that she had no time to step back, he seized both her arms above the elbow and shook her.
“Have a care, madam, that you don’t try your tricks on my troopers,” he told her harshly, his face close to hers. “Doubtless they would accept your invitation, with results which you might not intend. As for myself, you may as well understand that even had I not held my honour dear, nothing would induce me to help you escape or avoid the fate which you so rightly deserve. Leo Smythe was a good officer and a dear friend, remember that, Miss Frazer; and the fact that even were it not my duty as a soldier of the King, I would still not rest until you are hanged!”
He released her with the words, and suddenly pale Anstey stepped back, her eyes dark with fear and anticipation. Unable to hide her trembling, she turned and stumbling a little, hurried back to the road.
Feeling sick with fear she hunched in the saddle, heedless of her surroundings of majestic mountains and sparkling burns, and knew that her one hope lay in escaping. She viewed Captain Ward’s grimness of purpose with something approaching horror, and had already begun to suspect that he was totally ruthless in that which he considered his duty.
Looking at his straight back as he rode at the head of his men, she could not suppress a shiver, and biting her lips looked hastily away and encountered the gaze of a young trooper riding nearby. Something in his expression encouraged her, and hungry for some sign of friendship, she smiled tentatively.
An engaging grin spread across his sunburned face and she realized that he was even younger than she had supposed; only a few years older than Jamie. The soldier nodded slightly before returning to the wooden pose expected of him and her mood of despair lightened beyond all reason. Anstey rode on, the sun suddenly warm on her back. Looking about, she found her surroundings, now that she was leaving them, more beautiful than she ever remembered.
Taking advantage of the long Highland daylight, they rode on into the evening, coming at last upon a small settlement where the Captain intended to spend the night. Anstey was too tired to do more than peck at the meal provided and fell asleep in the lodgings arranged for her, hoping as she curled up in the cramped bed, built like a cupboard into the wall, that she would not provide a meal for the unwelcome bedfellows which she suspected throve among the blankets.
The day was not far advanced when they set off the next morning. The dew was wet underfoot and the horses’ hooves sent up showers of spray at every step. Anstey felt her spirits rise unaccountably as she saw the mountain path which they must take, winding upwards ahead between buttresses of rock and wooded slopes. Here, she knew, was her chance of escape. Surreptitiously watching the soldiers, she saw their unease in the unfamiliar surroundings, as they loosened the weapons in their sheaths and glanced cautiously around, as though expecting hordes of fierce clansmen to dash out of hiding at any moment.
The order for single file was given and her heart rose, only to sink as Captain Ward’s eye fell on her and he ordered a Trooper Gray to take her rein. To her scarcely concealed elation, the soldier who rode forward was the boy who had shown friendliness the day before.
“I’m glad it was you,” she confided in a whisper.
“Are you, miss?” He seemed pleased.
“All the others seem such ogres, I vow I’m afraid of them.”
His gaze travelled over his companions, seeing them with Anstey’s eyes. “Well, I suppose they might,” he concluded, having taken in their stained red uniforms and powdered hair strained back under tall black caps, “but they’re good fellows really.”
“None smiled at me, save you. Tell me your name, Trooper Gray.”
“It’s Johnnie, miss -” He broke off abruptly as the sergeant rode up, his shrewd blue eyes going from one to the other.
“No fraternising, Trooper,” he said. “Remember, the prisoner has a way with Redcoats, that’s why we’re taking her to London.”
Dropping back when he was certain his words had sunk in, he rode behind them, but Anstey was conscious of his watchful eyes boring into her back and dared not do more than cast a fleeting glance in the direction of her young companion. She saw that he was riding with his eyes straight ahead, a bright flush on his cheeks, and thought despairingly that his tentative friendship had been lost before it had begun. But a little later she was surprised to hear a hoarse whisper.
“I know as how you didn’t do it - and if you did, it was to save your honour,” Johnnie Gray assured her, and she sent him a grateful glance.
“No talking in the ranks,” shouted the sergeant from behind, and they quickly turned their eyes ahead and rode on in silence, both aware of an affinity between them.
That midday Johnnie Gray brought Anstey’s bread and cheese to her and she looked up in surprise as he sat down beside her.
“I thought the sergeant didn’t like ‘fraternising’.”
He grinned. “He doesn’t, miss, but the Captain says it’s good for me to learn to do my duty. He says I must regard you as a prisoner and forget that you are a female and attractive.”
“Did he say that?” asked Anstey. “About me being attractive?”
“Well, he did say a ‘fancy piece’, but that’s soldiers’ talk for the same thing.”
Catching his anxious eye, Anstey felt her mouth twitch and suddenly they were laughing together, trying to suppress their mirth in case it was noticed by the others.
“I’m glad you’re here, Johnnie Gray,” she told him, “I need a friend.”
He sobered at her words and studied her anxiously, his brow furrowed. “You shouldn’t be here, miss,” he said slowly. “The others do say as how when you get to London, you’ll be-” He swallowed the next word and looked away.
“Hanged,” supplied Anstey, her voice calm. “Yes, I know!” She watched the effect on the boy.
“It’s n
ot right,” he said miserably. “If only I could help.”
Anstey studied him thoughtfully. “If I could get away,” she suggested carefully, “I could hide in the mountains and they’d never find me. I’d only need a moment - if somebody could bar the way for a second, that’s all I need.” She moved closer, and holding his eyes with hers, touched her neck. “I don’t want to die, Johnnie,” she said, and allowed the fear she felt to show in her voice.
“I can’t do it, miss,” he cried, aghast.
“Please,” she whispered desperately. “Please.”
The boy scrambled to his feet, scattering crumbs from his lap in his haste, and quickly walked away, leaving her to follow more slowly. Avoiding his eyes as he helped her to mount, she supposed him to have refused her request and felt depression settle heavily about her.
Later that afternoon she saw ahead the perfect place for her escape; ahead the road narrowed into a gorge while an even narrower track led between a fissure in the rock walls. Wild hope surged through her.
“Johnnie,” she breathed, “here’s the place - help me.”
Waiting until she was level with the fissure which no one else seemed to have noticed, she suddenly spun her mount on his hind legs and plunged off the road, urging him along the steep, rocky path at a gallop, while behind her came shouts and the sound of altercation, and flinging a glance backwards she saw Johnnie barring the way.
Her heart beating wildly with excitement, Anstey clapped her heels into the horse’s sides and crouching low over his neck, used all her skill as a rider to draw every possible ounce of speed out of him. Suddenly she was out of the confining sides of the fissure and had emerged upon a bare mountainside, its undulating slopes sweeping upwards without a scrap of cover upon them.
A clatter of hooves and falling stones behind made her glance over her shoulder in time to see Captain Ward emerge from the fissure, his mount rearing and plunging before being turned in her direction. Anstey was uncertain whether she would have stopped at the soldier’s shout or not, but her horse was in his stride by now and carried away by excitement, seized his head and hurtled away across the slope towards the distant mountain top.