She grimaced as the door creaked ever so slightly. Holding her breath, she peered into the dark hallway and listened. She heard nothing. Garrett and his men had returned to Mhor Manor only two hours ago, but fortunately they had all retired at once.
At least she thought they had. Now that she was standing in the hallway, she could see a faint light shining under Garrett’s door.
Wasn’t it like him to still be awake, no doubt plotting his next move to capture his infamous brigand. She turned and crossed the hallway, thankful for the carpeting which masked her movement, and stepped gingerly down the side stairs.
At the bottom she paused as her eyes adjusted to the blackness. A dim light burned in the main hallway, and she heard snores from the guard stationed there. What would Garrett think if he knew his soldier was sleeping at his duty station? she wondered. Well, she didn’t care. She had one less guard to worry about.
She walked cautiously into the drawing room and headed directly to the closet, dodging the small side tables placed near the brocade armchairs. She lifted the latch quietly and stepped inside the narrow enclosure, found the round peg, and pulled the door shut behind her.
Madeleine drew a deep breath, her heartbeat drumming loudly in her ears. She shivered with nervous excitement. She hadn’t been in the tunnel since she was fourteen, when her father had showed it to her for the first time, though she had heard about it since childhood. She dropped to her hands and knees near the back wall and groped along the intricately planked floor.
Where was that notch? Her fingers ran along the cracks, searching, until she found one that was slightly wider than the others, just large enough for her fingertips. She pushed against the wood, which was springy to the touch.
Suddenly a thick wedge of planking popped up, leaving a space wide enough for her hands. She gritted her teeth and lifted the trap door until the iron hinges would go no further.
A wave of dank, musty air assaulted her nostrils, and she barely stopped herself from sneezing. Still in pitch darkness, she crouched and lowered one foot into the gaping hole.
Her foot caught immediately on a wooden ladder off to one side. She climbed down carefully, her hand grasping the wooden handle on the trap door while she descended into the tunnel. As the trap door settled back into place, years of dirt and dust rained down upon her. She sneezed loudly, once, twice, praying that no one could hear her down there.
The air was quite chilly, and Madeleine was glad she had worn her shawl. She heard the sound of dripping water and tentatively reached out and touched one earthen wall. It was damp and spongy. She wrinkled her nose in distaste. Mold.
She drew out a candle stub and a small pewter tinderbox from her pocket. Kneeling, she deftly struck the flint and lit the candle. Instantly she was surrounded by soft yellow light, the wick sputtering and hissing. She gasped when she looked up.
The tunnel loomed ahead of her, melting into a black abyss beyond the flickering light of her candle. The wooden beams supporting the ceiling were draped with spiderwebs, reminding her of a crypt. She stood and wrapped her shawl more tightly around her, glancing up one last time to make sure the trap door was securely sealed.
Madeleine began to walk, slowly at first, but then faster. She had no wish to tarry in this spooky underground passage. She tried to imagine her ancestors rushing through the tunnel, but the countless spiderwebs distracted her. As soon as she swept one aside, another was tangled in her clothes, in her braided hair, even in her mouth.
She spat distastefully. God’s wounds! She couldn’t wait until she was free of this place. She began to run, her panting breaths echoing in front of her and behind her. She remembered enjoying this far more at fourteen, but her father had been with her then, holding her hand, talking reassuringly to her, and making her laugh so she wouldn’t be frightened.
Madeleine thought she might scream by the time she reached the end of the tunnel. Disgustedly she swatted a fat brown spider from her shoulder. If it weren’t for Garrett and his blasted redcoats, she thought, she would be going about her raids as before without having to resort to such drastic and repulsive measures.
At the end there was another trap door which was much heavier to lift than the other. She knew it was covered by six inches of sod above ground. She extinguished her candle, plunging the tunnel into darkness, and set it with the tinderbox in one corner. Then she scrambled up the ladder and heaved her shoulder against the trap door with every ounce of her strength.
Finally the trap door gave way and fell back against a tree trunk. She climbed out, ducking the low branches and swallowing great lungfuls of fresh, night air. She was grateful for the thick cover of fir trees, which hid her from view.
She glanced behind her at the manor house some forty yards away, glowing a pale white in the moonlight, then back to the yawning trap door. What an ordeal that had been, but she would have to repeat it again and again until the English soldiers left Strathherrick.
Och, if it benefited her people, then so be it, she consoled herself. That was worth every hardship. She closed the trap door, smoothed the grass-laden sod, and set off at a brisk walk toward Errogie, which was just over two miles away.
She could have asked her kinsmen to wait for her closer to Mhor Manor, but that would have been far too dangerous with the soldiers billeted there. It was better for her to meet them at the ancient yew tree where her clan had cut their badges for hundreds of years. Such a meeting place would surely bring them good luck.
Halfway there Madeleine changed clothes, which allowed her to quicken her pace. It was much easier to tramp upon the peaty, heather-strewn moors in trousers than in an unwieldy gown. The nights were cool in the Highlands, no matter how hot the day, and her heavy woolen jacket gave her extra warmth.
She ran the last distance because she didn’t want to be late. She had instructed her kinsmen to wait no longer than fifteen minutes after midnight. If she didn’t arrive by then, it meant the raid should be abandoned.
Night sounds surrounded her as she ran, adding a haunting quality to the starlit night. There wasn’t even a hint of fog that was so common in the Highlands.
She started as a hind barked nearby, alerting other red deer to her presence. Small animals—pine marten, voles, rabbits, and field mice—rustled and squeaked in the darkness. A peregrine falcon, startled from its perch, shrieked from a high treetop. She loved these wild sounds, the cries of the night.
She rounded the northern tip of Loch Mhor, stopping for the briefest moment to gaze breathlessly at the long stretch of water. A ribbon of moonlight streamed across the placid surface, melting into the inky black depths. It was so beautiful, and she found herself wishing she had someone to share such a bewitching sight with her. Unwittingly, she thought of Garrett…
She shivered, banishing him from her mind. What was coming over her? Her kinsmen were waiting for her and were no doubt wondering what was taking her so long. She set out once again, determined to think of nothing but the impending raid.
Madeleine raced over the last hill, holding on to her black cap. She spied the towering yew tree, but there was no sign of her kinsmen. Her heart knocked against her breast. She knew she wasn’t late. Had something happened? She slowed to a furtive walk as she looked around.
“Maddie, over here!”
Relief poured through her at the sound of Ewen’s voice. She looked to her right and smiled broadly as five familiar shapes materialized out of the blackness. Six horses followed behind them, the animals nickering softly.
