'Robert!'I shouted, hoping that he would come to help.
The boy held my gaze.He remained impassive, staring over the crowd as if they were not there.He looked at my mother without expression as she lifted her hand and smacked it down on the rump of the horse.It jerked forward so the boy slid off the back and hung there, legs kicking and face screwed up as the noose tightened around his throat.
'No!'I screamed as loudly as I could.'No!'
I did not see from where the riders came.In common with the rest of the crowd, I was concentrating on the drama unfolding before us, watching that poor boy kick and gyrate as he choked to death when the storm arrived.The first I knew about it was the shout, 'A Yorling!'
I whirled around to see who had shouted that dread slogan.It was the Yorling himself with his long black hair flying beneath his steel bonnet and his yellow jack prominent as he galloped toward the gallows tree.The crowd parted before him like the Red Sea before Moses, and the Yorling's men followed in a wedge formation that split the crowd in half.I watched with a mixture of delight and astonishment as the Yorling flicked out his sword and sliced through the gallows rope.The boy fell heavily and rolled on the ground, gasping until one of the Yorling's followers jumped out of the saddle and cut the cord that bound the boy's wrists.Without any hesitation, as if he had expected no less, the boy vaulted onto the saddle of a spare horse and let out a hoarse yell of his own.
'Come to me, my dark lady of Cardrona!'the Yorling yelled and rode straight for me.
I had no time to react as the Yorling barged his horse against Willie Rennie, knocked him down to the ground, and grabbed hold of me with his left hand.Before I knew what was happening, I was face down over his horse and we were galloping past the gallows tree and down the valley.
It was all over in far less time than it took to tell.One moment I was watching the noose tighten around the neck of that poor boy and the next I was in a very undignified position over the back of a horse, a prisoner of the infamous Yorling.
Chapter Five
ETTRICK FOREST
SEPTEMBER 1585
Now, you may wonder what I thought and how I felt as I bounced down the valley with my face to the ground, my bottom sticking up and my legs kicking like an upended sheep on the heather hills.Well, to tell the truth, I had so many thoughts racing through my head that I would find it difficult to put them in any sort of order.Perhaps the first was surprise.I had never been in that situation before and it was not one that I had ever contemplated.The second was the sheer discomfort of it all.I mean, my whole weight was pressing against my tummy and the blood was rushing to my head.I was not a happy girl.The third was embarrassment.What sort of view did the Yorling have of me if he looked down?I had not chosen my clothes with any care that day so they were old and worn, hopefully not too threadbare in any too prominent place, and the Yorling would see a very prominent part of me right in front of his face.
There was no fear.
Why was there no fear?
I do not know.I have already mentioned that I felt a strange sort of attachment to this Yorling man.Now I was his prisoner as we galloped down my own Lethan Valley with his wild riders all around, whooping and yelling as they passed all the old familiar landmarks, which I was aware of but of course could not see in my head-down position.
I shouted out in protest, kicking my legs, and trying to punch at the Yorling as he guided his horse with consummate skill.
'Keep quiet, my lady!'He gave me a smack on the rump that made me gasp.
I called him a name that should have made him blush.Instead, he laughed.
'That is no language for the Lady of the Lethan to use,' his voice was deep, musical, and strangely familiar.I felt as if I had known this man for years, although I had only heard of him very recently.It was the strangest of feelings, but one which did not in the slightest prevent me from telling him exactly what I thought of him, his actions, his behaviour, his morals and even, may God forgive me, his parentage or lack thereof.
And to all of that he replied with laughter, or short comments such as 'is that so, my lady?'or 'I have heard that before, my lady foul mouth.'He did not attempt to slap me after that first time.
I could not upset that man in the slightest, which was unusual for me as even my mother had often told me that I was the most irritating girl in the world.
'Here will do,' the Yorling said.
We stopped and I was helped to the ground with more gentleness than I had expected.I stood there, stamping my feet, with my face flushed, sorting out my disarranged clothing and looking around at this outlaw band that had grabbed me in such an outrageous fashion.
I was very surprised how young they were.I doubted if any of them was over twenty-five years old and most would be younger.They formed a circle around me grinning or just staring as the Yorling himself slowly removed his helmet and shook his head, so the long hair rippled around his shoulders.
I took a deep breath.He was tall, taller than any of his men, and slender, with a long face and quite a prominent nose.His eyes were not as hard as most men I knew; they had a strange, near magnetic quality.Was he handsome?Yes, I suppose that he was, but it was something else that attracted me.I did not know what it was, and I certainly could not explain it, but there was that something about this man that immediately made me trust him.I have mentioned that before, I know.
'So, My Lady Lethan,' the Yorling gave a great sweeping bow, throwing out his right hand to the side and bending his knee.'Here we are.'
'Indeed, we are.'I did not do him the honour of a curtsey.I said that I trusted him.I did not say that I was inclined to be pleasant to him.'So, what happens now?'
He smiled, showing white teeth.'Now, my foul-mouthed lady, I take you to my little home in the hills.'
'Oh?'I was very aware of all the eyes staring at me.Now, I quite enjoy being the centre of attraction, so I straightened the mess that my hair was in—hanging upside down over the neck of a horse does terrible things to your coiffure, you know—and faced him.'And what happens when we get to this little home in the hills?'
'That is for me to know and you to find out,' my charming black-haired thief told me.His eyes were the brightest, smokiest green that I have ever seen.They held my attention as I tried my best to unsettle him.
