PROLOGUE
It was a bleak morning on the edge of the Tarbert village. Anne McKenzie, a lass of just thirteen, was sitting on the doorstep of her hut, staring at the dirt road. It sloped up a little, showing the long road that led into the depths of the Highlands. She peered into the distance, hoping that she would find her father striding back with a pack full of food slung over his shoulder. There were moments when the desire became so intense that it almost became reality. The illusion was washed away with every blink though. She twirled strands of red hair between her fingers, humming a soft melody as she waited. The minutes slipped by, and the gnawing hunger was like an unruly beast prowling within her body, waiting to be tamed. She sighed, wishing that her father, John, had a steadier life than that of a mercenary. He could be gone for days at a time, sometimes even weeks, and there was no telling that he would always return. It was a dangerous destiny, but one that he was married to. He said that it was the only way he could earn enough coin to support both her and Rory, but she often wished he was a simple fisherman, shepherd, or farmer. At least then he would be able to stay with them. As it was, Anne was the head ofthe household, sometimes more a mother to Rory than a sister, especially now that she was getting older.
As she tugged at her hair, she remembered her mother, Ellen. She had the same type of hair as Anne. Ellen used to spend the nights brushing Anne’s hair while singing her songs. The world had seemed gentle and comforting, and there was never any danger lurking in the shadows. Her father had been happy then as well. Now that she thought about it, she couldn’t remember the last time she had seen John smile.
She heard footsteps behind her. Rory yawned and rubbed his eyes as he came to stand beside her, following her gaze to the road ahead.
“Why did ye let me sleep sae late? I wanted tae wait with ye for Da,” Rory said.
“Because when ye are sleeping ye cannae be hungry,” she replied, pushing herself up and heading into the kitchen, where she searched for food. The cupboards were bare, just like their stomachs. If John didn’t return soon, they were going to have to starve. She asked herself what her mother would have done, and then pulled a shawl around her shoulders.
“Come, Rory, we are heading tae market,” she said.
Rory exclaimed with delight and ran after her.
“Did Da leave us any coin?”
“Aye, just enough,” Anne lied. Her fingers ran along a couple of coins in her purse. It wasn’t enough to buy anything really. The prices of everything seemed to be rising and rising, but she hoped that someone would take pity on them. Perhaps she could even owe them a debt, even though her father had always swornher against this. He said that nobody should ever hold anything over you, because it gave them all the power. Still, sometimes there was no choice. Anne couldn’t wait at the house. If John was delayed then he might not return even by nightfall, and by then the market would be closed.
She watched as Rory ran along the road, pretending to be a warrior himself, fighting invisible enemies. There was a time when life had been that simple for her as well, but now that she was older she began to see the world as it really was; a cruel place where everything could fall into imbalance. It was all precarious and there was never anything guaranteed, other than misery and hunger. Ellen used to tell her stories of grand feasts and banquets in great halls and keeps. It must have been wonderful to live like that, Anne thought, but she would never have a life like that. It wasn’t meant for people like her, people who lived in the muck.
As they entered the market Rory’s attention was caught by all the fascinating things offered by the merchants. There were fabrics of wild colors and trinkets, as well as fine-smelling herbs. It was as though the world had come to visit them, and they could sample the exotic delights of what existed beyond their narrow view of the world. While Rory was occupied with this, Anne went to the food stalls and tried to barter, but she was always turned away. She simply did not have enough coin, and nobody was going to show her charity because if they started giving food to one hungry child then a whole gaggle of children were going to start pestering them, and that was no way to run a business. Anne sighed and turned away, wondering if her heart was going to turn hard when she stopped growing up.
Fearing that she would have to return to Rory empty-handed, she started to become desperate. There was a stall that heldsweet-smelling bread. Her mouth watered at the sight of it, but the baker was not inclined to sell her any. However, a moment was enough. When a wild dog ran through the market and a butcher called after it, for the dog had stolen a chain of sausages, she saw her chance. The baker rushed away and chased after the dog, leaving his stall unattended. Anne’s hunger battled with her conscience, but in the end, her need to take care of her brother won out. She quickly pilfered a loaf of bread, hiding it under her long shawl. She strode towards Rory and ushered him away from the market, telling him that they couldn’t spend too much time away in case their father returned. Anne’s cheeks were flushed as she was certain that people would chase after her just as they had chased after the dog, but she soon found herself out of sight, walking back home. She pulled the bread out and handed it to Rory. He munched on it contentedly, and she knew that she could live with herself even though she was now a thief. Rory’s well-being was the most important thing, for she was responsible for him until their father returned.
1
Nine years later…
It was the middle of the night in Tarbert village. Anne, now a woman of twenty-two, slipped out of bed. She smoothed down her hair and wore a wicked smile. She was light on her feet, while candlelight illuminated the room. Behind her, a man snored. His lips were parted, showing yellow teeth, while his chest rose and fell with each breath. She stifled a chuckle, pitying him for the way his eyes had lit up when she had approached him, knowing that he was a fool for believing he could ever spend the night with her. But some men’s ambition was their downfall. Anne had made a living off of this. While he slept, his mind addled with drink, she rifled through his clothes, relieving him of his pouch. The weight felt nice in her hands, and she knew it was going to be a while before she and Rory were going to go hungry again. She clutched it close to her chest and closed her eyes for a moment, feeling triumph rushing through her. She gripped it tightly, not intending to let it go for anything, and then glanced back at the man. A pang of guilt stabbed at her heart because she hated that she had to resort to stealing like this, but she told herself that he deserved it. After speakingwith him it was clear that he wasn’t a nice man, and he would only have frittered this money away on other vices. Better that it be put to good use, like feeding two starving people who had no other way to survive. In a way, she was helping him be charitable, and that had to be good for the soul.
She stole away from the room before he had a chance to wake up. She closed the door quietly behind her and relaxed when no commotion was raised. She tiptoed through the inn and descended the stairs to the bar, when she narrowed her eyes. She hunched her shoulders and walked towards a table, reaching down and pinching Rory’s ear. He jerked awake, batting away her hand, and rubbing his earlobe as he frowned at her.
“Ye are supposed tae be keeping watch,” she hissed, glancing around with a furtive gaze, trying to make sure that nobody noticed her crime. The last thing she needed was someone noticing the same woman with straight red hair, emerald eyes, and a dusting of freckles across her face frequenting taverns and leaving men sleeping in bed, frustrated that instead of enjoying a warm body they were relieved of their coins.
Rory yawned and rubbed his eyes. Anne yanked him up and pushed him out of the inn. The crisp, cool air of the night rushed around them and tingled against her skin. She kept walking, knowing that there were no guarantees with this particular theft. Her target could have woken up at any moment and realized that she had stolen his purse. She and Rory scurried away from the inn, making the trip back to their small hut on the outskirts of the village, the far outskirts where few people ever ventured.
“Ye need tae be more careful,” Anne scolded again. Rory wore a sullen look.
“I thought ye hae everything under control. Besides, he was alone. It was nae like he hae any friends tae warn him.”
“But ye never know who is watching. And taenight was nae just about him, it was about our next target. Ye were supposed tae see if there was anyone else we could steal from. We cannae afford tae miss any opportunities.”
“I dinnae like ye daeing this,” Rory said in a quiet voice. He was fourteen now, and starting to become a man. He was also starting to become aware of some of the things that happened in the inns. It was her fault, she knew, for exposing him to this world. He overheard things in conversation, dark things that no lad should ever hear. For her own protection, however, she needed him to be beside her.
“I told ye it is nae dangerous, as long as we are careful. Men are desperate creatures and sometimes what they want more than anything is some company. I dinnae dae anything with them, I just talk with them a while and make sure they are drunk enough tae fall asleep before they can expect anything. That’s why picking the right target is important,” she said. She shuddered at the thought of any man laying a hand on her without her consent, but she tried to hide this discomfort from Rory. Unfortunately, there was no other way for her to earn as much money as this.
“Dae ye think Da met women like ye when he was away?” Rory asked in a small voice.
“Nae. He loved Ma,” Anne replied, although she wasn’t too convinced about her own statement. After seeing for herself how greedy men were, how relentless they could be in their ardent hunger, she wondered if, in his lonely years, her father had indeed succumbed to this urge that seemed to be within everyman. She tried not to think about it too much, though. She preferred to think of John as he was when he was married, the happy home he and Ellen had created for their children. It was a nice thought. Sometimes, Anne could think about it so fiercely that it almost seemed real, as though this life was a dream and she would wake up as a girl again before everything had gone wrong.
But that was a dream, and this was the reality. The thing with this was that it was never going to end.
“I dinnae mean tae scold ye. I know ye are nae used tae staying up this late, it’s just that we hae tae be careful. If people discover what we are daeing then they’re gaeing tae be angry,” Anne said.
“I dinnae know why we hae tae dae it at all.”
“Because we hae nae alternative. I cannae gae tae war like Da, and the inns dinnae pay a waitress enough tae feed both of us. Maybe once ye are older ye can find work on a farm or somethin’.”
