“Ye ken I’ve always had a fancy for more adventure, Daughter. I saw meself slipping into a predictable routine of herding, sowing, and harvesting, and couldnae stand the thought of it! I’m in the prime o’ me life, Blair! All I have to look forward to in the next ten or twenty years is the gradual decline of me strength and health, and then the grave! It chilled me to the bone!”
She nodded in understanding. Blair knew exactly what her father was saying.
“So, nothing daunted, when I overheard two gentlemen discussing how to transport goods from one town to the other, and I ken it was along me route from the market, I said I would do it. Everything went well. I would ride to Flichity, pick up a bundle or packet, and drop it off in Cromachy on me way home.”
Blair could sense her father’s perplexity at how things had managed to go wrong so quickly.
“I met some truly interesting characters at first. Pickpockets, vagrants, poachers; fascinating people with many a riveting tale to tell. Then my errands took on a much darker tone. Stolen horses and cattle, sneak thieves, and highwaymen—all hanging offenses. I was no longer flirting with deportation, I was dancing within sight o’ the hangman’s noose!”
His daughter gave a shiver at the thought of her father hanging in the town square with their friends and neighbors, watching him fight to breathe.
“It was me greed that drove me to accept ever more dangerous tasks. Ye ken only one o’ the places where I hide me gold. I have a few more dotted over the farm. But what good would all that wealth do me family if I was too dead to give it to them? So, I began to refuse the errands, saying me family was suspicious, me wife was ill, the chaplain’s sermon had made me see the error of me ways—anything to make them leave me alone.
“They seemed to accept me reluctance with good grace, until one market day when they said I must do one more job for them before they would accept me retirement. I recognized the man who came to sit with me. He is a known slaver and trafficker—a man with no heart—who sleeps like a bairn at night with the screams of his cargo ringin’ in his ears.”
A stillness had settled over the room. The only sounds were the shouts of alehouse patrons down below and the crackle of the fire.
“What was the job?” Blair could not stop herself from asking.
Angus let out a shuddering sigh. “It was to drive a wagon from Flichity Harbor to Cromachy. An enclosed wagon, such as the ones used to carry fighting dogs and madmen too crazed for the public to see without being made downright distraught by the sight. They said I had to do it because I’m innocent in the eyes of town wardens and the like, and it would raise no questions.”
Blair said hopefully, “It seems like nae such a bad thing to be asked to do, Faither. What was the cargo, or was the wagon empty?”
“Oh, Daughter, dinnae hate me! The wagon’s cargo was a woman. She was nae auld enough to be a maiden, nor so long in the tooth to be called a crone. She was just some poor woman, but nae yet so downtrodden that she had given up tryin’ to escape. They had her ankles shackled like a common vagabond, and yet there was a fightin’ sparkle still in her eyes! She was too proud to beg for freedom from the knaves who held her captive, but when I was left alone with her on the journey to Cromachy, she pleaded with me most ardently to let her go.”
“What?! Ye agreed to carry her hence? Have ye no shame, Faither?” Blair was aghast at what Angus was telling her.
He raised a hand and held it up. “Hear me out, hear me out! Please!” When Blair had sat back in her chair, Angus continued.
“I agreed to drive the wagon, with the woman caged and hidden in the back and all, because I had resolved to set her free along the route.”
Blair nodded encouragingly at these words. “I ken I could trust ye to do the trick, Faither,” she said approvingly.
Angus shifted unhappily in his chair, unconsciously rubbing the side of his face that bore all the bruises and cuts. “I stopped to buy a file from Jake, the blacksmith, and then waited until we were well clear of Flichity but close enough to Cromachy for the woman to make her way there without too much walking. Then I set to it with the file.”
“Before or after the loch?” Blair said.
“After,” Angus said, “but I misjudged the craftiness of her captors. They had sent a scout to follow me, misliking the way I viewed me errand in all likelihood. By the time I had stopped the wagon and begun to file away at the poor girl’s chains, the scout had time to ride like the wind into Cromachy and inform the men waiting for her there. He must have ridden behind the brambles to stop me from seeing him pass.”
Blair, now familiar with the route, agreed with this reasoning.
“Those brutes value her as a great prize; a woman with no friend or family to raise concerns about her whereabouts or occupation. They descended on us like a pack o’ wolves, just as I was giving the lass some coins for food and clothing.”
“Caught in a trap,” Blair said sadly.
15
The Other Bedchamber
Father and daughter sat gloomily in front of the fireplace in contemplative silence. Blair was imagining the life the woman must have led during her captivity and felt a sense of dread and despair descend over her.
“Faither,” she said quietly, and Angus lifted his bent head when he heard her voice. “I am nae so young anymore and have heard tell of the women who follow scoundrels and common foot soldiers around. They style themselves camp followers and serving wenches, but they do it willingly, and no one forces them to transfer their affections from one man to another. They are there on their own accord and what they do is of their own free will.”
Angus nodded to show he was following her line of reasoning.
“Aye, Daughter. They provide a necessary service if that's what ye can call it. The men, whether bandits or soldiers, come back to camp and there’s a hot meal waiting for them and a pair of warm arms when they have the time to think of caresses.”
“Aye, but that’s what’s botherin’ me. Why would they want this woman, out of all the camp followers and willing wenches available to them, to stay with them against her will? There are probablydozensof women—none of whom they would have to keep in chains—quite happy to keep camp for them and warm their beds. So why keep this one? Did she say for how long she had been a thrall?”
