I need not have bothered.Before the words were uttered, Hugh had risen from his corner of the dungeon and, clever man, swung the chains that had so lately confined his ankles.With the doubled chain in his hands, he crashed the iron manacles onto the head of the bearded Armstrong, knocking him to the ground.
Pockmarked turned around more quickly than I had ever seen a man move, dragging out a knife from his belt at the same time.Unbalanced from his first blow, Hugh was at a disadvantage.I kicked upward, hoping to catch pockmark in an evil place.He hardly grunted as my boot instead made contact with his thigh, but that tiny distraction was all that Hugh needed.Dropping the manacles, he punched upward into pockmark's throat.
Pockmark opened his mouth to try and draw in a breath so Hugh punched him on the point of his jaw, knocking him to the wall, where Hugh punched him again.They were good punches that raised a thrill in me.I do like to see a man who knows what to do and does it well, with no wasted effort.
'Is he dead?'I watched pockmark slump against the wall.
'No.'Hugh took the man's knife and slipped it inside his own belt.'Come on, Jeannie; time we were out of here before they realise what is happening,'
I nodded: I had never seen such fighting at close quarters before.I could only watch as Hugh jumped to the opening above us and scrambled out.Seconds later, he dropped a rope down.
'Take hold,' he ordered.'I'll pull you up.'
I took hold as instructed but rather than wait to be pulled I climbed hand over hand to the opening.Hugh helped me over the lip, and I stood upright, looking around.I had feared that there might be more Armstrongs around, but the ground level was free of them, with only horses and various stores, dimly seen in the gloom.
'Can you ride bareback?'Hugh asked me.
'I've never tried,' I said.
'Can you?Yes or no?'I could sense his urgency.
'Yes,' I said quickly.
'Good; choose a horse; quickly!
There were ten horses to choose from, all of the finest stock.Trust the Armstrongs to know the best horseflesh.I chose a fine brown mare while Hugh was making heavy weather of lifting the heavy wooden bar from the door.
'Let me help,' I said, taking some of the weight.He gave me the briefest of nods.
'On the count of three,' Hugh said, 'one, two, three!'
Between us, we lifted one end of the bar, and then it slipped and fell with an almighty crash on to the floor.The noise might have been heard in Edinburgh or Carlisle; certainly, it echoed throughout that isolated tower like the knell of doom on Judgement Day.
Hugh looked at me.'That will waken the house,' he said.'Come on, Jeannie lass, before the Armstrongs come!'
He hauled the double doors open and we peered outside.There were no guards, nothing except the cloak of night and the sweet perfume of the Tarras Moss.
'Why are there no guards?'I asked.
'The Armstrongs are secure here in the middle of Tarras.They are the only people who know the routes here, so they are in no fear of attack.Mount and ride, Jeannie; they are coming!'
I heard the noise from above, the harsh shouts of angry men and the clatter of footsteps on stone stairs.I saw Hugh grab a sword from a rack on the wall and then we were hurrying outside, with me insecure on my horse without a saddle, and the night welcoming us with its dark blanket and a cool smirr of rain.
Without knowing anything about the geography of the Tarras Moss, I could only blindly follow Hugh.Luckily, he seemed to know what he was doing as he led at a trot, looking back over his shoulder either to ensure that I was still there or to see if we were being followed or perhaps both.'Can you keep up?'
'I'll try,' I said although in truth I found it very difficult to sit astride my mare with neither stirrups or saddle as we jolted through the night.To be honest it was a bit of a nightmare being jiggled up and down on that horse in the black without knowing where I was or where I was going.I wrapped the mane of my horse around my fingers, gritted my teeth, and endured the painful bouncing.
'They're following.'Hugh broke a long silence with urgent words.'Can you walk your horse backwards?'
'Walk him backwards?'I repeated the words as if I were the class dunce.'Why ever should I wish to?'
'Yes or no?'Hugh insisted.
'Yes, I can,' I said.It was a trick that Robert and I had perfected many years ago when we were very young people without a care in the world.
'Then follow my lead,' Hugh said.He reined up and walked backwards, keeping his hooves in line.I followed him, with my nerves screaming at me to kick my heels in and gallop away from the Armstrongs who could not be many hundreds of yards behind us.I could faintly hear their hoarse shouts as they encouraged each other forward and I could feel the vibration of their hooves pounding on the ground.
'This way,' Hugh said suddenly and broke off to the path to the side.I followed with my heart pounding and my nerves jangling as I expected my mount to founder into a patch of bogland with every step.That is the nature of the Tarras Moss you see; it has hidden stretches of deep peat-bog and sudden patches of forest so impenetrable that Jesus himself would struggle to find even the narrowest of straight paths.
