The Betrayal of Maggie Blair

Chapter 23

For a moment there was mayhem as everyone jumped to their feet, shouted, and milled about, not knowing which way to run. Then Mr. Renwick, his voice calm and unhurried, called out, "Don't be afraid, brothers and sisters! Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall persecution, or peril, or sword? Nay, in all these things, we are more than conquerors..."

"Aye, well, but there are women and bairns here," a man close to me muttered. He called up to the guards above, "How close are they, lads? How many?"

Before an answer could come, I saw the flash of a red coat in the trees on the far side of the gully, a mere stone's throw away, and then came another terrifying crack as the soldier, steadying himself against a tree, took aim with his musket and fired.

He would have hit Mr. Renwick if the preacher hadn't at that moment bent down to pick up his fallen Bible. The man hid behind the tree to reload his musket. Dandy Fleming, from his high vantage point, had a good sight of him and fired. I saw that the ball had hit its mark, because the soldier toppled forward and, slowly gaining speed, rolled down the slope to splash face-down and motionless in the stream below.

"Well done, Dandy! You've killed the scunner!" one of the lads shouted, but then I noticed nothing more, for the panic all around me swept me up in a great whirl of terror. I wanted to hit out at everyone in front of me and scratch and claw my way out of that narrow place, and I would have lost control completely if Aunt Blair hadn't screeched in my ear, "Take Nanny! Get her home! Go the other way, up the gully and over the top. Martha! Where's Martha?"

I saw at once that she was right, because everyone was trying to rush down by the lower way, and they were caught in the bottleneck of the narrow little valley. Now that I had a clear idea of what to do, I felt steadier. I picked up Nanny, who was crying hysterically. I hugged her to my chest, ran low to the ground like a hare, then up the slope, ignoring the gorse thorns that tore at my gown and my skin.

"It's all right, Nanny. Be quiet darling," I kept saying. "We're going home."

We were up on the level ground a few moments later, from where I could see right across the hillside. Aunt Blair had been right. The twenty or so red-coated soldiers, who had fanned out across the moor, were leaping down toward the lower end of the gully, from which people were running as fast as they could get away. I could see Ritchie and the other young men forming a kind of guard, their muskets to their shoulders, but I didn't wait to watch.

"You've got to be quiet now, Nanny," I said sternly. "If you don't stop screaming, the nasty men will catch us."

She gulped and hiccupped, terrified, and her arms tightened so hard around my neck, I was afraid I would choke, but at least she was quiet.

Ducking and weaving from hollow to bush, around boulders, and through bogs, we reached the farm at last. In the distance I could hear shouts and screams and the occasional crack of a gun. Though the soldiers might burst into the farm at any moment, I felt safe in the calm enclosing walls of Ladymuir.

"Here we are, Nanny. Good girl. There you go," I said, peeling the little girl's arms from my aching neck and setting her down in the yard.

"Where's Mammy?" she whimpered. "I want my mammy!"

"Well, now look! Here she comes."

Aunt Blair was indeed running into the yard with Andrew in her arms and Grizel behind her.

"Oh Nanny! Thank goodness! But where's Martha? And Annie?" She was at the entrance to the yard again, looking wildly around. "Oh! Annie's down there! But who's that with her! It can't be!"

I looked over her shoulder down the track that led from Ladymuir to the lane. There was a tree on the corner to which a horse was tethered. Annie was standing with her back to it, deep in what was obviously a willing embrace with Lieutenant Dundas. As we watched with open mouths, he pulled away from her, patted her on the bottom, then cupped his hands for her foot and threw her up onto his horse's saddle. She bent down for a last kiss before he smacked the horse's rump, and Annie, her cap ribbons flying, her skirt billowing out around her, trotted away and disappeared down the lane into the hollow at the bottom of the hill.

Aunt Blair staggered as if she'd been struck.

"Oh!" was all she could say. "Oh! I can't believe it! It can't be true!"

I couldn't help the smile of grim, justified triumph that I knew had lifted my mouth. Unfortunately, Aunt Blair saw it.

"How can you smile like that, Maggie? You can say I told you so, and I wish now I'd listened to you, but it was a bad day for us all when you brought that wicked treacherous girl to Ladymuir."

Her injustice stung me.

"Aunt! I didn't bring her! I never wanted—"

"Oh, never mind all that now! Where's Martha? And Ritchie? And Hugh? I'm out of my mind with worry."

"I'll go and look for Martha," I said, swallowing angry tears. "She must have hidden somewhere close by."

I no longer cared about the danger swirling around the hillsides. I wanted only to take my hurt away from Ladymuir. I wanted also to prove my courage and my worth to Aunt Blair.

I stumbled blindly out into the open, not caring where I went and not even bothering to hide myself, running directly up the hill in full view of anyone who might be looking. Furious words hammered around in my head.

She's so unfair! It wasn't my fault. I tried to tell her. Why didn't she listen? And Annie! How could she be so wicked?

When I had nearly reached the top, I stopped for a moment to catch my breath. I felt calmer now, and the horror of the battle on the hilltops came back to me. I was suddenly terribly afraid again. At any moment I might be shot at or captured and taken away.

I looked around. From where I stood, I couldn't see the lower exit to the gully, but I could clearly see the lane. People were hurrying back up toward Kilmacolm, carrying their children and looking back over their shoulders. There was no sign of the Black Cuffs.

There aren't enough of them to arrest everyone, I thought, and our lads will be protecting the people. The soldiers will care most about catching Mr. Renwick.

Shouts came from behind. Turning, I saw two men, one tall and heavy-built, and one as short and slight as a boy, a quarter of a mile away. It was Uncle Blair and Mr. Renwick, I was certain. And they were hurrying toward a dip in the moor where I could see three scarlet-coated dragoons lurking, waiting, like pike in the depths of Loch Quien, for their prey to come close enough to snatch.

I wanted to warn Uncle Blair, to scream out to him to turn and run, but I didn't dare risk the soldiers seeing me. In desperation, I tore off my bleached linen petticoat and stood like a madwoman waving it over my head.

Uncle Blair saw it. He grasped Mr. Renwick's arm to halt him. I pointed to the hollow and mimed a soldier peering down a musket barrel. Uncle Blair seemed to understand, because he spun Mr. Renwick around, and together they stumbled away toward the hillside behind. The soldiers were out of their hollow and after them as keenly as dogs let off their leashes. One of them turned, realizing that Uncle Blair must have received a signal, but I had dropped down to the ground and was almost sure he hadn't seen me. I lay there panting as if I'd run a race, dreading the thud of the soldiers' boots coming toward me, but nothing happened and at last I dared to lift my head and look.

The soldiers were fanning out, running away from me, some peeling away to the left and some to the right. I could see that they were trying to surround the hill to cut off Uncle Blair and Mr. Renwick.

I've got to warn them! They won't see what's happening! I thought, and I gathered my skirt up above my knees and raced toward the hill.

There were no more than six or seven dragoons, and they were spread quite far apart. Their scarlet coats made them easy to see against the greens and browns of the heather-clad hill. Ducking behind gorse bushes and keeping low to the ground, I was soon halfway up the slope. I stopped, a stitch stabbing my side, to draw breath.

And then I saw them. Uncle Blair and Mr. Renwick were only a short way ahead, moving fast along the path that would take them around the shoulder of the hill. On the far side lay the slope that led across the moors northward, toward the banks of the Clyde.

"Uncle!" I called out recklessly, though I was too scared and too short of breath to shout loudly. Luckily he heard and turned around.

"Maggie! What are you doing out here? Get back home! Don't you realize how dangerous this is?"

"Uncle, listen! They're surrounding the whole hillside. I saw them! If you go on this path, they'll be waiting on the far side."

Mr. Renwick came toward Uncle Blair.

"What was that? What did the lassie say?"

His eyes were alight with the excitement of it all, but a groan broke from Uncle Blair, who was pale with anxiety. I understood, suddenly, that he had risked everything—his farm, his family, and even his life—for the cause, and that he had done it knowingly, because he thought it was right. And I loved him for it.

"Oh, Lord, save us!" he was muttering. "Oh, God, help us!"

"Have courage, brother," said Mr. Renwick cheerfully. "Is there no hollow or dip where we can lie and hide? Surely there's some small place..."

"Up there! Two men and a girl! One of them's Renwick!" came a shout from below.

There was nowhere to go but on up the hill, even though I knew the noose was tightening around us.

"There's still a chance. We might slip through their cordon on the far side," Mr. Renwick said, panting. "We must pray that the Lord hides us for long enough from their eyes!"

We were nearly at the top of the hill. It was crowned with a high cairn of stones. I looked over my shoulder. There would be no safe way down for any of us now. Lieutenant Dundas's men were closing in. We were trapped on the windy peak.

"Ha!" Uncle Blair exclaimed suddenly. "Praise the Lord! He has shown me a hiding place! Get up the cairn, Mr. Renwick, quick! Climb the stones! There's a hollow inside it that Danny and I made when we were boys. No one will think to look for you there."

"But you..." began Mr. Renwick.

"It's you they want. It's your life that must be preserved to carry the word. Be quick! Hide!"

Mr. Renwick was already clambering up the pile of stones, and he whisked himself down inside as fast as a startled lizard shoots across a stone.

"Now, Maggie, we must face this out," said Uncle Blair. "We can't run from them. Sit here by me, my dear, and wait for them peacefully. I wish your father could have seen you today. He would have burst with pride. They'll take me, Maggie. You know that. My life then will be the Lord's to do with as he sees fit. I'll not have the chance to say goodbye to them all at home. Comfort your aunt, Maggie dear. Help her with the little ones. I know that it's not always been easy for you, but..." He picked up my hand and pressed it. "And try to forgive Annie, who has meant no harm, I'm sure."

It was Annie who betrayed you, Uncle, I wanted to protest, but the Black Cuffs were so close now that I could hear the buckles jingle on their scabbards, and I didn't want to distress him further.

"There are heavy fines to pay," Uncle Blair went on urgently, his thoughts running ahead. "There's silver put by in the strongbox. Not enough, but some. Tell Ritchie to apply for more to the Laird of Duchal if he has to, but only if things grow desperate. And tell him that the infield must be the first to harvest, when the oats are ripe. Tell him..."

"Uncle! You'll be back before harvest time, wherever they take you!" My voice was dry with dread.

"I don't think so, Maggie."

He stood up and stepped forward with a calm face to meet the first of the dragoons to reach the summit, who had drawn his sword and was pointing it directly at Uncle Blair's chest.

"Put your weapon away, man. There's no need for violence. But let the lassie go. She's a child. She wished only to see me safe."

Three other soldiers had arrived now. They grabbed Uncle Blair by the arms, but took no more notice of me than if I'd been a stray sheep.

"Go on, Maggie," Uncle Blair said over his shoulder. "Go back home."

One of the men had taken Uncle Blair by the front of his coat and was shaking him in a terrier's grip.

"Renwick! The preacher! Where is he? What have you done with him?"

"You'll not find him," Uncle Blair said, setting his jaw. "The Lord of hosts is with him. The God of Jacob is his refuge."

"Refuge? I'll give you refuge!" said the dragoon furiously, smacking Uncle Blair across the face with a swipe of his hand, so that the sword wound on his cheek opened and began to bleed again.

I took a deep breath.

"I saw a short little man in a brown coat running that way," I said, pointing toward the Clyde, "if that's the one you're looking for."

I didn't dare look at my uncle. Even at this moment of extreme danger, I knew he'd never stoop to such a blatant untruth.

"You're lying." The tallest dragoon came up and stood so close to me that I could smell onions on his breath. Though my heart was thudding, I managed to stare boldly back at him.

"Why should I lie? The man's nothing to me."

One of the others snorted with contempt.

"She's another light skirt, like the lieutenant's new fancy piece. Sick and tired of all the preachifying. Women are all sneaks, anyway."

I flushed but held my tongue. My lie was working. They were looking in the direction I'd pointed, shading their eyes to scan the moorland. I seized my chance and backed away, then began to run down the far side of the hill. I lost my balance almost at once on the steep slope and slithered down a good stretch of it on my back.

"The devil Renwick's slipped through between us!" I heard one of the soldiers shout to the others. "Get off after him! We'll take this treasonous Covenanter back to the lieutenant. What? The girl? Let her go, the little Jezebel."

***

It was a long way back to Ladymuir, and I ached with tiredness before I was halfway there. I could only hobble slowly on sore feet by the end, but when I came within earshot of the house, I heard sounds that made me pick up my skirts and run.

Men were shouting and laughing, and a woman was screaming.

I raced, panting, through the yard entrance to find Black Cuffs swarming. Two held Ritchie by the arms, and he was struggling desperately to free himself. Another man had seized Grizel, who, crimson with rage, was trying to beat him off with her fists. Aunt Blair stood by the door, her face as white as her cap, her hands held out in front of her as if she was warding off the Devil himself.

"No!" she screamed. "No!"

And then I saw Lieutenant Dundas. He was holding Andrew over the lip of the well by one arm. The poor baby, wriggling and bellowing, threatened to slip out of his grasp at any moment.

"Where is he? If you want your squealing brat, you must tell me where you've hidden the preacher!"

"I know where he is! I'll tell you! Don't drop him!" I shouted.

Lieutenant Dundas spun around.

"Who are you? What do you know?"

"My niece! That's my niece! Maggie, catch Andrew! Don't let him fall!"

"Please, sir, give me the baby," I said, walking forward slowly, as if I was approaching a dangerous dog. "I'll tell you. I saw him. I know where he is."

"Maggie!" Ritchie called out. "Mind what you say!"

Lieutenant Dundas almost flung Andrew at me. Aunt Blair darted forward and snatched him out of my arms.

With a final frantic lunge, Ritchie shook off the two soldiers. They made no effort to restrain him again. Everyone was looking at me.

"My uncle's taken," I said to Aunt Blair. I turned back to Lieutenant Dundas. "Your men took him, up on the top of Windyhill, by the cairn." I bit my lip, wishing I hadn't mentioned the cairn, afraid I'd given too much away.

"The Devil can take your damned uncle," Lieutenant Dundas barked impatiently. "Where's the traitor Renwick?"

"I'm telling you. They surrounded Windyhill and chased Uncle Blair and Mr. Renwick up it. But Mr. Renwick slipped between them, and I think—I didn't see—perhaps he hid behind some stones or a ... a gorse bush. But then he went on northward, across the moor toward the Clyde. They've gone after him, some of them. The others arrested my uncle. They said they'd bring him back to you. But please, sir, you don't want him. Please, let him..."

Lieutenant Dundas's hand shot out, and he gripped me painfully by the throat.

"Are you telling the truth? You'll be sorry if it's a lie."

I knew I'd be sorry for the sin but not for the result.

"I'm telling you," I managed to croak, though he was half strangling me. "They nearly caught Mr. Renwick on the top of Windyhill, and now they're chasing him north, over the hills."

That's the truth, after all, I told myself.

"Hugh? They've taken Hugh?" Aunt Blair cried out, as if she'd only just understood. Still clasping Andrew, she sank down on to the stone seat by the door.

Lieutenant Dundas had lost interest in us all.

"There's no more to do here," he said curtly to his men. "Watkins, leave that girl alone. There are still hours of light left. Get mounted, all of you. We'll ride up past Kilmacolm and cut the traitor off before he reaches the coast. He'll be trying to get a crossing to Gourock or Dunoon."

No one spoke as the sound of the horses' hooves died away down the track, but the silence was broken by Aunt Blair's moaning sobs.

Behind me, Ritchie cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry you betrayed Mr. Renwick. That wasn't well done."

"I didn't betray him." I blushed at the scorn in his voice. "He's hiding inside the cairn on the top of Windyhill. I told a lie to send the troopers away in the wrong direction. They believed me and chased after him."

Ritchie managed to smile at this news.

"Well done, Maggie! You mean he's safe?"

"I suppose so, as long as he stays out of sight inside the cairn."

"I'll go and find him and take him to a good hiding place," said Ritchie, making for the yard entrance. "It's what Father would want."

Aunt Blair started up.

"Ritchie, you will not. It's enough that your father's been arrested. There's to be no more running about the countryside today. If you're taken too, who's to keep us going here? Who's to run the farm?"

"Mother—"

"No!" I had never heard my aunt speak so forcibly.

For once, I agreed with my aunt.

"If you go up there, you'll just draw attention to him," I dared to chip in. "He's well hidden. He's safer by himself till the troops are called off the hills."

Ritchie tightened his lips but nodded reluctantly.

"Uncle Blair gave me some messages for you. He said to pay the fines with the silver in the strongbox, and if you really have to, you can ask the Laird of Duchal for a loan. And he said to harvest the infield first when the oats are ripe."

Aunt Blair let out a cry of despair, and Ritchie looked shaken.

"Harvest? But that's months away! Did the soldiers say what they were going to do with him? Did they talk of a trial? Maggie, did you hear anything about—they're not going to execute him?"

I shook my head. "They didn't say anything. They just said they'd take him to Lieutenant Dundas."

"That monster!" Aunt Blair was rocking on her seat.

Grizel, who had run into the house disheveled and red-faced when the dragoon had at last let her go, came outside again.

"Mistress, you'll not be pleased," she said reluctantly. "They've been in and out of everything. It's turmoil in there. The cauldron's overturned and the fire's out and the silver spoon has gone."

Nanny had been cowering in her mother's skirts, and she set up a wail, only daring to raise her voice now that the danger was over. Aunt Blair looked down at her, startled, as if she'd only just realized she was there.

"And where's Martha? Maggie, you went out to find her! Where is she?"

"I'm here, Mammy! Have the nasty men all gone away?"

Martha's little white face appeared, peeping fearfully out around the frame of the kitchen door.

"Martha! Where have you been all this time?"

Martha looked at Aunt Blair doubtfully, not sure whether she was in trouble or not.

"I came home from the preaching," she said at last. "I didn't like it. Then Annie came and started looking for things. She was in a big hurry. She turned the heather out of our bed. She only found a groat, though, in Grizel's little bag."

"Ha!" snorted Grizel. "I knew all along she'd try to steal my wages. I hid them well."

"And then Annie slapped me, Mammy, and told me to fetch the key to the strongbox."

Aunt Blair gasped and clapped her hand over her mouth.

"The wickedness of her! I'd never have believed it!"

"The strongbox? We're ruined!" muttered Ritchie.

"I didn't want to give it to her," Martha said, frowning. "I don't like Annie. You said I had to like her, but she's not nice, Mammy. Not to me. I found the key before she did, and I put it in my pocket and pretended to go on looking for it. And then that man came, the horrible one, and he called her, and said he'd send her off to Sorn Castle with an escort on a horse, and she should wait for him there, and she just snatched up the silver spoon and ran out to him. I was so scared. I hid in your bed."

"Brave Martha," Aunt Blair said shakily, holding out her arms, and Martha went into them and was hugged fiercely.

Behind her, Grizel beckoned to me from the kitchen door.

"Might as well make a start," she said, looking around disgustedly at the wreckage. "Mistress is going to have a fit and half when she sees all this. She's not going to have it easy now. We'll not see the master back. He's done for, if you want my humble opinion."

***

After Lieutenant Dundas and his men had come to Ladymuir for the first time, we'd been able to repair much of the damage, scooping up the spilled meal and stitching the torn sacks, rescuing most of the cheeses, and generally putting the storeroom back in order. But this time the destruction had been complete. The troopers had stripped the storeroom, carrying off sacks and jars and barrels, and trampling what they left into a filthy mess on the floor. Inside the house, they had ripped the linen, tumbled the pots and dishes off the shelves, and smashed whatever would break.

I'd thought, when I first saw the ruin of her home, that Aunt Blair would sink into helpless despair. In fact, when she first saw the extent of the disaster, she could do nothing for at least half an hour but sit, crying and trembling, on the bench by the table, on which the remains of the breakfast porridge had been spilled and smeared and made inedible with handfuls of ash from the dead fire.

I crept around her, not wanting to irritate, not knowing where to start. I envied Grizel, who, in her usual practical way, was getting on with the work—picking up cooking pots, sweeping ashes, and fetching in twigs to try and relight the fire—while the little girls, upset by the horror of the day, squabbled noisily in the corner.

Aunt Blair stopped crying at last. She bent her head and clasped her hands, and I saw her lips moving.

She's praying, I thought, and I knew I should be praying too. I leaned on the broom I was holding, squeezed my eyelids together, and said in my heart, O Lord, deliver us from evil.

As the familiar phrase formed in my head, I remembered the last words I'd said to Jesus. I'd been filled with a rush of overwhelming love, up there by the waterfall, and I'd said, I give everything! I give!

I wasn't sure now what I'd meant or what had happened to me. I only knew that I'd felt something miraculous at the time, and that a glow, like the last pink streaks of a sunset, still lit something inside me.

"Maggie," said Aunt Blair, startling me.

I opened my eyes. She was sitting upright, and a little color had returned to her cheeks.

"You saved Andrew from that fiend," she said. "I'll not forget that. You were wonderful, dear. So brave."

She spoke more warmly than she had ever done, though I could tell that her words came from a sense of duty rather than affection. Even so, I blushed with pleasure.

"And she saved Mr. Renwick too," said Ritchie, coming in from outside. "Mother, I thought they'd driven off the cows, but they only let them loose. I've rounded them up. They're all accounted for."

"God be praised. There'll be milk then, at least, when they've calved."

Nanny and Martha heard the word milk. They stopped tussling and looked up.

"I'm hungry, Mammy," said Martha.

"So'm I," said Nanny.

"That's just too bad," Aunt Blair said with determined briskness. "You'll have to get used to it. Maggie, see if you can find any scraps of oatcake left over from this morning and give them to the children, then put the bedding together and get them to bed. Grizel, leave the fire now and clean up the mess on this table. Then we'll have to see if there's anything that can be rescued from the storeroom. We'll have to sift the oats from the mess on the floor grain by grain."

"Then what are we going to have for supper, mistress?" asked Grizel.

"Supper? Supper?" Aunt Blair's self-control, which she had wrapped around herself like a cloak, fell away for a moment. "Don't you understand, you silly girl? There is no supper. And there'll be nothing for breakfast. Your master's gone. The storeroom's empty. The silver will all be taken in fines. We're ruined, Grizel. If we survive until the harvest, it will be a miracle."

And then the cloak closed around her again, and she began to give us orders in her old contradictory way. She fussed and bustled and tutted and grumbled until the house had been restored to some kind of order, the fire was lit, the children had gone whining to bed, and Andrew had been suckled and laid for the night in his cradle.

But when we were in bed and I was sinking into the sleep of complete exhaustion, in spite of the hunger gnawing at me, I heard her weeping softly behind the wooden partition that separated her bed from ours.