Border Fire (12 page)

“But what’s the hurry?” Janet asked. “Surely we can go inside and rest a bit.”

“Believe me, I’d stay here if I could,” he replied, “but I dare not.”

“But you cannot take me to Hermitage! ’Tis the strongest fortress on the Scottish side of the line. ’Tis a prison, what’s more.”

“Aye, I ken fine that it is,” he said. “Still, I must go there, lass. Even Rabbie Redcloak must obey orders from Himself.”

“But the master of Hermitage is Buccleuch, and he’s a terrible man! Hugh says that as warden of two marches and keeper of Liddesdale he wields his power like a fiery sword! Hugh says it is foolhardy for James to rest so much power in the hands of one man. He says that Buccleuch is nigh as powerful as the King himself.”

“Aye, ’tis true,” the reiver said with a sigh. “You can see my dilemma, lass. I could leave you here, I suppose, although Jess might balk at the notion and you would not find his hospitality all that you might wish.”

Regarding the burly, unkempt Jess with disfavor, Janet barely managed to repress a shudder. “You cannot leave me here,” she said firmly. At least, she hoped she sounded firm and that no trace of the shudder had touched her voice. “Since you made the decision to abduct me, Redcloak, you are stuck with me. I just hope Buccleuch believes you when you tell him that this madness was your idea and will not take me for a common doxy who somehow seduced you. Godamercy,” she added when another thought struck, “he might even decide to hold me for ransom!”

“Lassie, you’ve kept your wits about you thus far; dinna lose them now,” the reiver said. “I promise you, you’ve no cause to fear Buccleuch. He’ll reserve his wrath for me. If I’m lucky, he’ll just be glad to see that I am free. Jess,” he added, “d’ye ken aught o’ Himself’s mind when he said I were to make for Hermitage?”

Jess rolled his eyes. “Hob the Mouse came here,” he said. “He tellt me that Himself be of a mind t’ raise the Borders did he hear nowt afore Wednesday o’ yer safe return or where them bastards was holding ye.”

“There, you see, lass? He’s just been a wee bit worried about me.”

“He said,” Jess added glumly, “that he’d give ten pounds t’ the man wha’ tells him where he can find ye, so he can pin your ears back for ye himself.”

“Ah, I see,” the reiver said. “We’ll be wasting no time then, and I’ll see that you get the ten pounds, Jess.”

“I thank ye for that, Rabbie. Watch weel the noo. I’ve a sword and a pistol for ye, so ye willna lose your head to some deevilish thief.”

The reiver grinned at him. “I thank ye for the weapons, Jess. I’ve felt naked without my own. Have you perchance got a bit of food to spare for us, as well?”

“Aye, my sister’s inside puttin’ up a bit for ye, and I’ve got a pony ye can tak’ for the lass if ye like. Hold on a bit, and I’ll fetch the lot out.” He turned away, then turned back with a frown to say apologetically to Janet, “I must crave pardon, mistress, for I dinna possess a sidesaddle.”

“I do not require one,” she told him with a smile. “A simple cross-saddle will serve me well if you have one that I may use.”

“I’m glad that you can ride astride, lass,” the reiver said when Jess had gone to fetch the horse and saddle. “Many ladies do not, but I never thought to ask. If you’d required a sidesaddle, we’d have had to travel much more slowly, and as it is, it will take us the best part of the day to reach Hermitage. I’ve never yet understood how women can be comfortable riding sideways, any road.”

“Women just have better balance than men, that’s all,” she replied sweetly.

Hugh would have scoffed, might even have snapped at her to hold her foolish tongue; but, to her surprise, the reiver grinned and said, “I never thought of that possibility. In truth, though, any saddle of Jess’s is bound to be shabby, and not as comfortable as what you’re used to. You might use that second cloak of yours to cushion it, and I’ll be glad to put you up. You needn’t worry that Jess will see more than he should. Your skirts are full enough to keep you decent.”

“I am accustomed to riding astride,” she said. “I have done so since childhood and sometimes even wear my brother’s cast-off breeches beneath my skirts for extra comfort. I had no mother or father to tell me that I should not, you see, and Hugh was often away.”

“I think I begin to see how you grew to be as you are,” he said thoughtfully, “but we’ll not discuss what I think of such an upbringing. At present I am just grateful that my own weary lad need carry the two of us no longer.”

She did not know whether to be glad or sorry about that. She had rather enjoyed feeling his arms around her, and now that she could see his features clearly in the early gray dawn light, she saw that he was better looking than any reiver had a right to be.

He wore no helmet, and his shaggy hair and beard were darker than she had imagined them. His eyes were light brown or hazel. She would need more light to discern their exact color. When he walked, he did so with lithe, powerful grace, and in the saddle he sat tall and moved with his horse as if he had been born riding. She took care not to stare, however, having no wish to betray thoughts that were wholly inappropriate to their different stations in life.

When Jess returned leading a plump little gray mare, she made no objection when the reiver lifted her to its saddle. She required no assistance to arrange her skirts or her cloak, but she did not disdain his help when he held the reins while she did so and offered to fold Hugh’s cloak to provide a cushion for Jemmy Whiskers.

The little mare did not seem to mind her skirts much, but the process tested its manners and the cat’s patience. Remembering what the Brackengill stable lad had said about half-broken Scottish ponies, she wondered if the mare had been raised in England. Trading horses across the line was illegal, but that did not stop the practice. Nor did it stop the reivers from doing their own sort of horse-trading.

The sun was rising through a light mist as they rode over the first hill and beyond sight of the cottage. The day promised to be warmer than the previous one.

“How will you get the mare back to Jess?” Janet asked, breaking the silence.

The reiver shrugged. “One of my lads will see that she gets back to him,” he said. A moment later, as he led the way down the other side of the hill, he added, “We’ll head north for a bit. The Liddel flows as much from the north as from the east, you know, and it would not do for us to run into your brother and his men before we reach Hermitage.”

She nodded, although she had not really known which way the Liddel flowed. She had never been on the Scottish side of the line before, and she was a little surprised that it looked much the same as Cumberland. For some reason she had expected it to be different, but the hills bore the same melting patchwork of snow, and in many places, the same stiff brown grass poked through. In south-facing hollows, bits of green grass were starting to show, just as they were in similar hollows in England. Most seemed to have survived the freeze the night before, but it was still too early to count them as harbingers of spring on either side of the line.

The mist soon disappeared, leaving a bright blue sky, and the air, though crisp, held warmth that had been lacking for months. Janet knew, however, that the higher temperatures could vanish overnight and that more snow might blanket the hills before spring spread true warmth through the Borders.

Soon they came to the banks of a river as wide as the Esk.

“This cannot be the Esk,” she said. “We crossed it again just before we arrived at Jess’s cottage. We must be well to the east of it now.”

“Aye, that’s right,” he said. “We crossed the Esk near Langholm, where the horse races will be next month. Jess lives in Ewesdale, and this is Tarras Water. Tarrasdale is Scott country, so we’re safe enough for a bit. We’ll follow Tarras Water to the top of Pike Fell yonder. On the other side, we’ll meet with Hermitage Water and follow it along down to the castle. That way, we’ll avoid meeting your brother if he should decide to visit Buccleuch and present a demand for a hot trod. He’d follow the Liddel to Hermitage Water and follow it north to the castle.”

They rode in silence for a half hour after that before Janet noticed that the reiver kept glancing at her. His expression was unreadable, but for once she could discern no amusement. He seemed somehow to be measuring her.

“What?” She cocked her head. “Why do you keep looking at me as if my hair had turned green or I’d got a smudge on my nose?”

“Is that how you think I’m looking at you? I was only trying to judge whether you seemed able to ride all the way without stopping. You were awake most of the night, lass, and by my reckoning the morning is more than half gone.”

“You were awake
all
night,” she pointed out.

“Aye, but I’ll warrant that I’ve had more rest than you have these past days.”

She could say nothing to that. He had had much more time for resting.

“I’m not tired,” she said. “You need not fear for my safety.”

“This is wild country,” he said. “We’ll have no track to follow, only the water, and much of the time we will not be able to ride alongside it. There is too much shrubbery, and in places the terrain is unreliable.”

She soon found that his description of the terrain was an understatement. The country was as rugged and bog-ridden as any she had ever seen. Cumberland, by comparison, was a gentle land. She hoped the gray mare was sure-footed.

Sir Hugh Graham did not discover that his prisoner had escaped until an hour after sunrise, because his man allowed him to oversleep. Since it had been unusually late when he got to bed, Hugh had not chided his servant. The prisoner certainly would not complain if his hanging was delayed.

Accordingly, Sir Hugh had broken his fast and attended to other morning duties before shouting for his men to prepare the reiver to meet his Maker.

Ten minutes later, Geordie rushed into the hall, white-faced and wide-eyed. “Master, he’s vanished!”

Sir Hugh looked up from papers he had been reading at the hall table. “What the devil do you mean, ‘he’s vanished’?”

Geordie spread his hands helplessly. “He isna there, sir. The doors be locked, both of them, and I ha’ the keys myself.”

“Then he must be in the cell.”

“Aye, that he must, but he isna there, I tell ye. ’Tis a witch’s spell, most like, or one cast by Auld Clarty.” Geordie made a hasty sign of the cross.

With difficulty Sir Hugh controlled his temper enough to say, “Search the castle, every inch of it. And if he got outside the walls, find out how he did so. And, Geordie,” he added in a soft but menacing tone as the man turned to leave.

With visible reluctance Geordie turned back. “Aye, master?”

“If he has got away, I shall not waste his gallows. Whoever is responsible for this will hang, every man jack of them.”

Sir Hugh got up to follow when Geordie hurried from the hall, but as he strode to the doorway, another thought struck and he shouted for a lackey. When one came running from the kitchen, Hugh said, “Has Mistress Janet arisen yet?”

“I dinna ken, master.”

“Then find out, damn you!”

In minutes he learned that his sister was nowhere in the castle and that no one had seen her all morning. Within the hour he learned that the prisoner was likewise nowhere to be found.

“Shall I ha’ the lads ready theirselves t’ ride after him?” Geordie asked.

“And which way do you think they should ride?” Hugh asked curtly.

Geordie thought for a moment, then said, “North, sir?”

With a sigh, Hugh said, “Send parties to the usual places to ask if anyone chanced to see him. If you get word of the direction he took, we can organize a pursuit. Give them two hours. If you cannot get word of his direction, we shall ride to Hermitage and demand that the damned Scots find him and return him to us.”

He did not tell the man that he suspected Janet had had a hand in the reiver’s escape. If she had, she had committed march treason and there would be those who would demand her death. Angry as he was, he did not want that. He would bide his time, but he would lay hands on them both again, and when he did, he would see to it that they paid heavily for their mischief.

Janet had been following the reiver over rocky outcroppings and through boggy meadows for over an hour when he said casually, “For a lass, you ride as well as any I’ve seen.”

The compliment caught her off guard. She knew that she was a competent horsewoman, even a skilled one, but Hugh was a man who favored criticism over compliments, and he could always find something to criticize.

With warmth in her cheeks she thanked him, glad that he was not looking directly at her, for she was certain that he would discern both her amazement and her delight. She did not think it wise to give a man like Redcloak the satisfaction of knowing how deeply his words had touched her.

They did not speak much after that, except when he pointed out certain signs now and again of his own men’s passing. It fascinated her that he could tell who had crossed their path and which way the rider had gone, just from a few scratches in the dirt.

“Bless you, lass, it’s how we communicate,” he said. “If there’s a raid, we cannot always wait for everyone to arrive at the meeting place, you see. So I leave my own sign for the stragglers, pointing the way.”

Despite the signs they saw, they encountered no one, and although they pressed on without stopping more than necessary, the afternoon had advanced considerably when Janet caught her first glimpse of Hermitage Castle.

As big as it was, she thought she might have suspected its identity even had the reiver not said, “There it is, lassie, the strength of Liddesdale.”

Eerie, bleak, and forbidding, even in slanting sunlight, the rectangular castle loomed to the north of a thicket of trees lining Hermitage Water. Set against the bleak brown and snow-white moorland of Liddesdale, it was one of the largest castles she had seen, but it had little in common with the fortress-palaces that were springing up in northern England. Hermitage was stark and, except for its enclosed, overhanging battlements and iron grills over windows on the topmost level, it bore not a touch of decoration, although the high flying arch linking two corner towers at the north end was striking. To her right, beyond the central block, she could see another tower and the peak of yet another beyond it to the north. Built of squared, close-fitting ashlar, its soft brown color suited the landscape.