The Betrayal of Maggie Blair (24 page)

But I heard a clatter from the kitchen and wouldn't dare to anger my aunt by waiting to hear more.

The feast we had prepared was ready at last. My uncle gave up his stool at the head of the table to Mr. Renwick, who was then persuaded to say grace. His prayer lasted for at least a quarter of an hour, and although I sensed that my aunt was growing restless with the fear that her dinner was spoiling, I could have gone on listening to Mr. Renwick's beautiful, fluid voice for hours. Afterward, though, I couldn't remember a word of what he'd said.

In spite of my aunt's efforts, Mr. Renwick ate very little and coughed frequently between mouthfuls. The talk between the men was all of politics. I felt my dinner curdle in my stomach as Mr. Renwick described the new laws brought in against those who refused to renounce the Covenant and who would not swear loyalty to the king.

"You mean that you can be sentenced and hanged just for attending a prayer meeting in the hills?" Ritchie demanded, his cheeks burning with indignation.

"Yes, young man. Satanic laws whispered into the ears of earthly princes by the Prince of Darkness himself," Mr. Renwickr eplied.

Uncle Blair shook his head sorrowfully.

"And how many of our men are dangling from the gallows at Paisley Cross?"

"Many. Too many. But their murderers will not go unpunished, for God is a man of war," Mr. Renwick answered, the softness of his look contradicting the violence of his words.

From time to time as the meal progressed, I glanced at Annie and saw that she was using all her tricks on Mr. Renwick, trying to catch his eye, then dimpling and lowering her own. I saw too, with triumphant satisfaction, that he was taking no more notice of her than if she'd been one of the soot-blackened cauldrons hanging on the hooks by the fire. I wouldn't have demeaned myself by behaving like Annie, but I had to admit a little disappointment that Mr. Renwick took not the slightest notice of me either.

When the bowls and platters had been cleared away, Uncle Blair said, "If you're not too tired, brother, after your wearisome trials and travels, can we prevail upon you to read us a word from the Good Book?"

"Certainly," said Mr. Renwick.

He took the Bible from Uncle Blair's hands, opened it, and began to read a psalm. Quite soon he lifted his eyes from the page and recited the chapter without reading.

Does he know the whole Bible by heart?
I thought incredulously.

He closed the book at last and laid his hand on the cover.

"Brothers, the sun has long gone down, and tomorrow will be a hard and busy day. Perhaps now is the time to sleep."

"Oh, sir," said Uncle Blair. "Before we go to bed, we—Mrs. Blair and I—have a request to make. As you know, there's no true minister now in Kilmacolm, and we've had no chance to bring our new child to the Lord for baptism. There are so many like us! You'll see them come tomorrow, babies and little children, streaming across the hills to our meeting place above Ladymuir. Will you christen Andrew, sir? Andrew and the others?"

Mr. Renwick gave that smile again, and I had to look away.

"Of course, dear brother." He stifled a yawn. "But now..."

"Aye, time to prepare for bed." Uncle Blair placed a hearty hand on Mr. Renwick's slim shoulder, and the preacher seemed to buckle under its weight.

At that moment one of the serving men, who had gone out to his bed in the byre, put his head back around the door.

"Black Cuffs in the lane, Mr. Blair! And on the moss behind!"

"Lord have mercy upon us!" cried Aunt Blair, jumping up from the table. "Hugh! What are we to do? What if they come here and find Mr. Renwick?"

"Dear sir, come with me if you please," said Uncle Blair, ignoring my aunt.

He thrust open the door into the little parlor next to the kitchen, and the rest of us, crowding in through the door, saw him draw out a ladder from behind the press.

"Stand back! Give me some room!"

I could tell he that he was alarmed from the irritation in his voice, which I had never heard before. He poked the ladder at the ceiling and pushed back a trapdoor between the beams.

"Quick, Isobel. A sheet! Blankets! A bolster!" he said, disappearing up into the loft space.

Muffled noises came from overhead, then his face appeared again.

"Come on up, Mr. Renwick. You'll be comfortable here, though it's not warm, I'm afraid. I slept in this loft myself when I was a lad. There's straw to lie on. They'll not find you, however hard they search the house. What are the rest of you gawping at, like a row of silly sheep? Get away to your beds. If the enemy comes he must find us peacefully sleeping, with nothing suspicious about us. That's right, Mr. Renwick. Mind the third step. It's a little shaky. When I've gone down, draw the ladder up after me and set the hatch back tight."

"So you'll be able to sleep in your own bed after all," I said over my shoulder, to the place where Annie had been a moment before. But she was no longer there.

It had been a long and tiring day, but in spite of my weary limbs, I couldn't get to sleep. The thought of Lieutenant Dundas and his vile troopers creeping about outside, searching every fold of the hills and stand of gorse for Mr. Renwick, made me tremble with fear. Now that the enemy was so close, I no longer felt secure behind the wall of brightness I'd sensed before. Mr. Renwick seemed no more than a sliver of light against great darkness, a being too otherworldly in his courage and beauty for the earthly brutality of soldiers.

If they come for him, I'll fight them myself with my bare hands,
I thought fiercely.
What was that he said? "God is a man of war!
"

The phrase pleased me, and I repeated it to myself, while sleep began to come.

And then suddenly I was wide awake again.

Annie,
I thought.
Annie. She's up to something.

I went over the events of the past hour carefully in my mind. After Mr. Renwick had gone to his bed in the loft, it had taken the rest of us a good three-quarters of an hour to clear away the last of the meal, damp the fire down for the night, and work through the usual chores, while Ritchie had kept watch, coming back frequently to report on the Black Cuffs' lantern lights bobbing as they searched the hills. Annie had reappeared only as we were putting on our night shifts. Her forehead had been beaded with sweat, and her cheeks were flushed as if she'd been running.

"Oh, Mistress Blair, I'm sorry I've taken so long. You know how I hate to be behind when there's work to be done. I went to check that Maggie had shut the chickens in and found the gate open, and they were all out in the yard! That little black hen ran away as usual. It took me ages to catch her."

"But I shut the gate to the coop!" I had protested indignantly. "I always do!"

My aunt had frowned at me and smiled indulgently at Annie.

"What a good thing you checked, dear. Get to bed now. We've a long day tomorrow."

Annie can't have been chasing the little black hen,
I thought.
That was the one we ate for supper. I plucked it myself. Why did she lie? Where did she go?

The answer came at once. I threw off my blanket and sat bolt upright.

She went to betray Mr. Renwick to the Black Cuffs.

The thought was so monstrous that I pushed it aside.

Not even Annie would do such a thing. And if she had, they'd have been here already to arrest him. Anyway, what would she have to gain? They'd probably arrest her too, just for living in a house with Covenanters.

Slowly, I lay down again. Then I heard the outer door of the other room creak open. My heart began to pound.

They're here, they're creeping into the house. In a minute they'll be in this room!

I knew then that I wouldn't be brave enough to fight, even for Mr. Renwick. I'd hide away and cower in some corner.

I waited, trembling, but nothing happened. No one came.

It was Uncle Blair, going out to relieve himself
I told myself, and was flooded with relief.

A moment later I was asleep.

***

I slept badly, disturbed by fears of a raid by the troopers and by Mr. Renwick's coughing overhead. I woke to the sound of many voices in the yard.

By the time I had got up and tidied away my bedding, there were at least thirty people congregated outside the farmhouse. Some were neighbors from nearby farms whom I recognized, but others must have come from much farther away. They would have been walking through the night to reach Ladymuir in time to hear the famous preacher.

A few had brought their little farm ponies, but most had come on foot, and many of the women carried babies in their arms, as Uncle Blair had predicted.

"I was in such a state, Jeanie," I heard one woman say to another, "about the risk, bringing the children and all, what with the troops all over the place, but Isaac's going to be two years old in a week's time, and this is our only chance to have him properly christened by a true man of God."

"My Matthew felt the same," the other woman said. "He was all for staying at home. But I was sure, you know, that there'll be a blessing on us today. 'Where's your faith, man?' I asked him.
'Cast all your burdens upon the Lord, for he careth for you.'
He had no answer to that."

In the entrance to the yard, Ritchie was standing with other farmers' sons. I recognized David Barbour, Dandy Fleming, and Mungo Laird. They were enthusiastically comparing their swords, daggers, and muskets.

"You'll see what to do when we get to the hollow," I heard Ritchie tell them, crossing his arms and frowning, like a master giving orders. "I went out to check the best lookout places yesterday. The bracken's not up yet, more's the pity, so we won't have much cover, but..."

"We can lie down in the heather," interrupted Dandy. "And not wear our blue bonnets. They won't be able to pick us out from a distance."

"Just what I was going to say," said Ritchie frostily.

Mungo was scratching at a crop of pimples on his chin, made more itchy by the new growth of beard pushing through the skin.

"We kept watch last night from our place at Newton," he said. "The troops withdrew off the hills late. We didn't see where they went, though."

"They're quartered miles away, at Sorn," said Ritchie impatiently. "If you'd all just listen I'll tell you. The point is that they can't have gone back that far last night, so they must have stayed close by. That means that we won't know which direction they'll come from, if they come at all."

"They'll come." David Barbour was squinting experimentally down the barrel of his musket. "They know Mr. Renwick's around here somewhere. They came as close as anything yesterday."

"You brought him to Ladymuir, didn't you?" Mungo asked Dandy. "What's he like?"

"You'll be amazed. Just a wee slip of a fellow. But when he starts to speak, his words go all the way through you. I can't explain. You'll see."

So Mr. Renwick has the same effect on everyone,
I thought, and I was oddly disappointed; I didn't know why.

Uncle Blair came out into the yard then.

"Ritchie and you lads, get all the people out of here now and off to the meeting place," he said. "The sooner they're hidden up there in the hollow, the better. Come back and lead the others as they arrive, then get into your lookout posts and keep yourselves hidden. You all have dry powder? And a good supply of musket balls? God willing we won't need to use them, but if the attack comes, then fight bravely. The enemy's hearts are filled with the strength of their wickedness, but if God be for us, who can stand against us?"

His words fired up a flame of courage in me, so that I blurted out, "Uncle, I'll stand guard and fight with the lads, if you have a spare musket."

He laughed, which made me flush with shame.

"Fighting's men's work, Maggie. But your courage does you credit. Go in, now, and help your aunt."

"She's a right one, that Maggie," I heard Ritchie say as I went back into the house, and David Barbour laughed and said, "Ritchie Blair, I do believe you're sweet on her. Look at you, blushing like a girl."

But that was just boys' talk and I thought nothing of it. I only wanted to see Mr. Renwick again.

In the kitchen my aunt was flustered, trying to prepare a huge breakfast for Mr. Renwick of which, I was sure, he would eat only a few mouthfuls.

"There you are, Maggie," she said crossly. "Disappearing again, just when you're needed. Help Nanny to dress, and mind Andrew. Annie dear, watch the oatcakes. I daren't let Maggie take charge of them and burn them again today."

I bit my lip and bent over Nanny.

Why does she dislike me so much?
I asked myself.
She never took to me, not even before Annie came.

Mr. Renwick appeared in the kitchen soon after. He was heavy-eyed and pale. Aunt Blair hovered around him, pressing on him bowls of porridge, eggs, fresh buttered oatcakes, and cream. As I'd predicted, he ate no more than a few morsels, and those I was sure were only for politeness' sake.

"It's as I thought," said Uncle Blair, coming in from the yard. "The people of God are assembling fearlessly under the very eyes of the enemy. Dozens of saints are here already, and more are moving this way across the hills. Did you sleep well, Mr. Renwick? It'll be a hard day's work for you, I fear. Have you given the man a good breakfast, Isobel?"

"He won't do more than nibble at it!" my aunt complained.

"Come, sir, come. You must eat to keep up your strength," Uncle Blair said earnestly.

Mr. Renwick turned on him his glorious smile.

"You know the promise we've been given, Brother Blair.
'They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.'
It is prayer, you see, that will give me strength, and not this excellent breakfast."

I was standing by the table, watching and listening, and I couldn't bear to see how little he had eaten. I spread an oatcake thickly with butter and honey.

"Please, Mr. Renwick," I said, offering it to him.