The Betrayal of Maggie Blair

Chapter 22

The arrival of Mr. Renwick put my aunt into such a spin that we three girls could only stare at her, bewildered, as one order contradicted another. Her mind seemed split between anxiety to show this honored guest the best that her house and table could offer, anguish at the wreckage of her storehouse, and fear that the troopers might return.

"Grizel, go and look for eggs. No, fetch more water from the burn. Maggie, what have you done to the oatcakes! Look, all of them burned. Go and bring cheese—no, milk, no—Annie! Run into the parlor and bring the silver spoon from the press. It's on the top shelf."

In the end I copied Grizel, who stolidly worked at one task after another, ignoring my aunt's distracted orders.

Uncle Blair came in at last, bending his head under the low lintel of the door. He snatched off his bonnet at the sight of Mr. Renwick and grasped the preacher's slim hand in both his great ones.

"So the Lord has brought you safely to us at last! The whole country is on fire with your preaching. You will work miracles among us."

Mr. Renwick managed to remove his hand before it was entirely crushed.

"Praise the Lord indeed that I am here at all, brother. Without his aid, I would have been caught long ago. The Father of Lies has whipped up such hatred against us that it's only by God's providence that I reached Ladymuir today. They're pursuing me everywhere, on horse and on foot. The escapes that I've had—the runs over moors, climbing from windows, hiding in gullies..."

"You'll tell us everything," Uncle Blair interrupted enthusiastically. "But my dear brother, I must ask you first, are you strong enough to preach tomorrow? There's a place on my land, not far from here, wonderfully hidden from any who don't know it. It's a hollow by a stream, and any noise of voices would be muffled from afar by a waterfall. I do believe that God has made it especially for our purpose. If you are able—there are hundreds of the good souls around Kilmacolm who long to hear you. Can you do it? If so, I'll send word out to the faithful, with the time and place."

He broke off, as Mr. Renwick's slight body shook with a racking cough.

"But you're not well! The strain of it would surely be too much for you."

Mr. Renwick's cough went on so long that Uncle Blair looked more and more anxious, while my aunt came and fluttered around him with a beaker of water and a kerchief.

"Hugh, don't ask it of him. You can see Mr. Renwick's not well. He needs to rest."

Mr. Renwick took the water and sipped, dabbed his mouth with the kerchief, and smiled. I had been whisking the crumbs off the table, and his smile sent my heart into a flutter.

"Don't be anxious on my account, sister," he said. "My poor body is a weak and feeble vessel, but the Lord fills it with strength as the need arises."

"Amen," said Uncle Blair reverently.

"But that's an awful cough," Aunt Blair said doubtfully.

"Well, now," Uncle Blair said with a change of tone. "You women will be busy, I'm sure, preparing a good dinner for us, and you'll be wanting the kitchen to yourselves. It's a fine morning. Mr. Renwick and I will send the men off to gather the brothers and sisters in Christ for a field meeting tomorrow, and then he and I will sit out on the stone seat by the door. We'll be able to watch from there if the Black Cuffs are busy in the hills."

"The Black Cuffs?" said Aunt Blair, flushing with anger. "If any of them go near my store again ... But they'll not return today, surely."

"They're swarming like the hornets of Satan across the whole of our poor Scotland," said Mr. Renwick cheerfully.

"Yes, yes, but don't fret, Isobel," my uncle said hastily. "Trust only in the Lord and all our ways will be safe."

My aunt's hospitable instincts quickly swept all other thoughts from her mind, and for the rest of that long afternoon we were set to chop up onions, pluck hens, stir pots, cut slices of salt beef, smooth the linen table cloth with hot stones, and shake out the heather of the girls' bed for Mr. Renwick to sleep in (which made Annie pout at the thought of the night she'd have to spend beside me on the parlor floor). The domestic tasks were so normal, and we were so conscious of the fame of our visitor, that I forgot for long quarter hours at a time the danger that surrounded us. Then the memory of Lieutenant Dunbar and his threatening henchmen would come back to me, and my heart would give a thump of fright. But the fear died down quickly. Mr. Renwick cast about himself a ring of brightness, a wall of light and faith and confidence that felt stronger than the ramparts of the stoutest castle.

Every now and then, I would make an excuse to cross the yard on an errand to the storehouse. I lingered as long as I could to catch snatches of Mr. Renwick's voice. He was always the one who was talking, and Uncle Blair sat speechless beside him, his hands resting on his knees, his face turned toward his guest with an expression of complete absorption.

"...and so the meeting was a blessed one, brother, with hundreds of faithful souls bearing witness to the Lord. We posted our men, fully armed, around the whole congregation. We knew that our enemies were scouring the hills for us, but they stuck together in one troop, too afraid of our muskets to risk going in ones and twos. We saw them coming over the hilltop, and they saw us too, but at the very last minute..."

"Maggie!" my aunt's voice came from the kitchen. "Where's the girl gone? Hurry up with that butter!"

The next time I managed to sneak outside, Mr. Renwick was saying, "...after that, our men went to meet them, and there was some musket fire. Two of theirs met their deaths, but—praise the Lord!—we got off without a scratch, and..."

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.

"Well, well." He was looking directly at me so that I thought for a minute I would faint. "If you wish it so much." And he took the oatcake, to my intense delight, and ate it all.

"Shall we go now, brother, and begin the Lord's work?" he said, when the last crumb had gone.

"Ritchie will come and tell us when they're all assembled," said Uncle Blair, going to the door and peering out. "Look there, up on the hills, more are coming. The young men are posting themselves all around on vantage points, watching for the troops. They'll come and fetch us when the time is right."

"Then I'll go aside into the other room and pray, to prepare myself," said Mr. Renwick.

Everything seemed duller—the light dimmer, the colors more gray—when he had left the room.

"Girls, take the children now and get on up to the meeting place," said Uncle Blair. "Grizel, you know where to go. Watch out all the time for Black Cuffs. If you see them coming, call to warn the others, then creep home down the gully, where you'll be hidden."

Aunt Blair gave a little bleat of anxiety. "Don't take Andrew and Nanny. Just Martha. I'll bring the little ones with me." She snatched Nanny's hand out of mine as if she was afraid she was about to lose her forever.

It was a relief to get away from the tense mood inside the house. The morning was fine and fair, the sun not long risen, and everything bright and gleaming after rain. Heavy droplets clogged the heather and sparkled on the new green grass. I took a deep breath and felt my anxious heart lift. Surely nothing bad could happen on such a beautiful spring morning, out here on this ordinary, familiar hillside?

In all my time at Ladymuir, I had never been to the place where the meeting was to be held. Grizel led the way to the stream, which I knew well enough, but instead of jumping over it, as I had expected, she turned along the bank and followed a little path that led up around the curve of the hillside. Below, the stream ran along the bed of a deep gully.

It was easy to see that many people had just passed that way. The print of feet was fresh in the mud, and the wet grass along the edges of the path was beaten down. I looked up to the hilltop above, where a young man was standing, scanning the horizon, his gun on his shoulder. Then ahead, as we rounded a spur of hillside, I saw a slow-moving family walking wearily along, the small children's sleeping heads nodding over their parents' shoulders.

A quarter of an hour later, we came around the last curve of the stream, and though I was expecting it, I was still astonished at the sight of hundreds of people, men and women, the old and the very young, milling about on a high flat bank above the fast-running stream. Opposite us, spouting down the black rocks, was a waterfall, rushing and foaming white. The pounding of the water as it fell into the pool below was so loud that it muffled the buzz of the people's excited voices. It was a perfect place to hide a crowd of people, out of sight of anyone looking across even from the highest vantage point of the hills above.

Above the flat space was a slope dotted with mossy rocks. Some people were already settled on these, as if they were sitting on their own stools in their own kirk, while others stood about, talking eagerly and looking down the burn as they waited for Mr. Renwick to appear.

"Is there news of Stephen Barbour?" I heard someone ask.

"He's been taken to Glasgow, to the tolbooth. There's to be a full trial."

"A trial! There's many who don't even get that. Muir of Rashiefield was taken up last week, told to renounce the Covenant and swear loyalty to the king, and when he refused, he was shot dead, right there in his own field."

Looking up, I could see the young men now posted about on each side of the gully. Ritchie himself stood on the highest point. He was signaling to Mungo to get into the right position. High above them, dark against the blue sky, a buzzard wheeled on tilted wings. On the far side of the narrow gully rose a steep hillside, covered with trees.

In the same quiet way that he had appeared in the farm kitchen, Mr. Renwick slipped into the crowd milling about the hollow so unobtrusively that at first no one realized he was there. People had arranged themselves in groups. Some were already praying together, their heads bowed. Mothers were calling sharp warnings to their children, who, unused to being with so many people at once, were running around excitedly. Silence washed in like a slow wave as people realized that the preacher had arrived. Uncle Blair signaled with a sweep of his arm, and everyone began to settle themselves against the hollow side of the hill and on the flat ground below. They laid their thick plaids down on the wet grass before they sat and turned their faces up eagerly to listen.

Uncle Blair and Mr. Renwick stood with their backs to the waterfall cascading down behind them.

"Dear friends, dear neighbors," began Uncle Blair. "You have come—we are here—the honor of welcoming you to Ladymuir—the danger we face today..."

He was unable to go on. For a moment I thought he was tongue-tied by nervousness at addressing such a large crowd, but when he turned to Mr. Renwick and signaled to him to carry on, I saw that he was moved beyond bearing with emotion, and my own eyes pricked with tears in response.

Mr. Renwick stood silent for a long moment, his head bowed in prayer, then he raised it and swept the expectant crowd with a long, penetrating look, as if assuring himself that all eyes were upon him. Only then did he begin to speak, and his voice, thrilling and deep, penetrated to the edge of the crowd, even through the sound of the water, and made the goose pimples rise on my arms.

"Those that choose Christ make the right choice, yes, and a noble choice, for if Christ is theirs, all is theirs. His glory is theirs, and he will be a hiding place to them in the days of trouble."

He took a small Bible from the pocket of his coat, opened it, and read, "'For thou hast been a strength to the poor, a strength to the needy in his distress, a refuge from the storm, a shadow from the heat, when the blast of the terrible ones is a storm against the wall.'"

"Amen!" several voices called back in response.

"A strength to the needy in his distress," I thought. "A shadow from the heat."

Was that true for me? Was it Christ who had rescued me from the gallows and the fire? Or just Tam?

It was Tam, I thought. It must have been.

I knew that I wasn't pure enough—I had never been good or faithful enough—to deserve that Christ himself would make such an effort to rescue me. I could believe much more easily in Tam's love and his delight in making mischief.

While my mind had wandered, Mr. Renwick had been turning the pages of his Bible, and now he was tapping it with his forefinger.

"Oh, brothers and sisters!" he cried. "Listen to the love thoughts, bound here in this book in a bundle of precious promises! Every one of them drops like honey from the honeycomb! See how Christ shows his love to us." And he read out, "'He brought me to the banqueting house, and his banner over me was love, and he fed me with apples, and comforted me with wine.'"

My chest tightened with longing as he spoke.

Nobody ever loved me like that. But does Jesus? Is it really tr ue?

"And what does he want from you in return?" I could hardly bear to look at Mr. Renwick now. I felt as if his words were burning me, singeing my soul. "Jesus wants to have your heart and all that you have and are. If he calls for your eyes, give them to him! If he calls for your ears, give them to him! If he calls for your heart—oh, brothers and sisters, give! Give!"

"I do! I give everything!" I whispered, and my heart seemed to bound in my chest. "I give..."

"Maggie!" said my aunt, pulling on my sleeve. "Where's Martha?"

I looked around. I could see Nanny with a knot of other little girls. They had crept away to the side of the congregation and were playing quietly with sticks of wood wrapped in little cloths, cradling them like babies. But Martha wasn't there.

"I don't know, Aunt. I thought she was with you."

Annie, sitting right behind us, leaned forward and whispered, "I'll go and look for her, Mistress Blair."

"Oh, thank you, dear." Aunt Blair nodded gratefully. "She can't have wandered far."

I turned back to Mr. Renwick, ready to sink back under the spell of his sermon, but as Annie stepped over my outstretched legs, I looked up and saw a glint of fierce purpose in her eyes. She was suppressing a smile of triumph, as if she'd been waiting for something and it had happened as she'd hoped.

A jag of fear shot through me.

"Stay here, Annie. I'll go," I said, catching hold of her skirt.

She shook me off without looking at me or answering and was already slipping away to the edge of the crowd where the path led out of the hollow.

"No!" I called out, too loudly, making heads around me turn. "Come back, Annie!"

"Be quiet!" Aunt Blair hissed at me furiously. "You're making a spectacle of yourself."

Annie had halted and was looking down at the stream where some of the little boys were squatting on the bank, floating sticks on the water, and watching them spin away down the current. She turned to shake her head at Aunt Blair, as if to say that Martha wasn't there. I knew she was only making a pretense of looking. I began to get up to run after her.

"These are Gospel days!" Mr. Renwick was calling out, "when the high places shall be forsaken, and the cities left desolate, and the towers shall be dens for the wild beasts, until the Spirit of God is poured on us from on high!"

Aunt Blair grabbed at my foot and pulled me down again.

"For goodness' sake, Maggie! This jealousy of yours is too much. I thought even your heart would be softened by Mr. Renwick."

I stared at her.

"Oh, Aunt, I'm not jealous of Annie! I'm afraid of her! She's up to something, I know she is. Last night, when she was gone for so long, I'm sure she was meeting the soldiers. I'm so scared—I'm afraid she's running off now to betray us!"

"Don't be ridiculous, girl! This is pure ill-nature. No more fuss, please. People are looking at us."

I subsided unwillingly.

Perhaps she's right, I thought. Perhaps I'm just jealous and suspicious. I looked up and caught sight of Ritchie, who was sitting with his back to the hollow, his musket across his knees.

"We are a church and a people in an extremity of trouble!" Mr. Renwick cried out, "but the sureness of our Covenant sets our feet upon iron ground. We will not turn aside, neither to the right hand nor to the left!"

At least Ritchie and the boys are keeping watch, I thought, my anxiety subsiding. They'll see the Black Cuffs from miles away. They'll see if Annie's meeting up with them. There'll be plenty of warning for us all to get away, if we have to.

Mr. Renwick's tone had changed, and his voice had dropped to a new and terrible pitch. There was no sign of the cough that had racked his chest all through the night.

"Oh, hard-hearted people! Remember that God is a great and a terrible God. A God of revenge on those who sin! Think on this—there is a day coming where you will all be called before his judgment seat, and the question will be asked of each one of you, 'O man! O woman! Why did you do such things against me?' And on that day, how will you answer? Have you failed to keep faith with God and his Covenant? Then he will be revenged! Have you made peace with his enemies? God will be revenged! He will say to you, 'Depart from me, you who are cursed,' and he will cast you into everlasting fire!"

Here it came again, that terrible threat of Hell and fire. For a fleeting moment, I remembered Mr. Lithgow on the mountainside, gazing down at the perfection of a bluebell.

"If God could make all this, why would he bother to make a Hell?" he had said.

I had nearly believed him. I shuddered at the sin I had nearly fallen into. Mr. Renwick knew the truth. I would give my heart and my eyes and my ears and all that I had to Jesus, and stay faithful and true forever, and I would be saved from the fires of Hell.

"Who is on the Lord's side?" Mr. Renwick's voice was cracking with the effort to be heard by those farthest away, above the noise of the waterfall. "Who? There are but two sides, the camp of the Lord and the camp of the enemy. He who is not with us is against us!"

And then came the sounds that I had dreaded—shouts of "Black Cuffs!" from the boys above, and the crackle of musket shot, which made the whole crowd flinch and cower.