“And then he’ll hang,” Captain Howard said with satisfaction.
Oliver shook his head. “No, Howard. Not hanged; deported, I think, and fined. Much worse.”
“He hanged Lieutenant Gower, he should be hanged as well – for Gower and the two men he cut down on the moor.”
Oliver made an impatient sound. “Conjecture, Howard.”
It was dark by the time Matthew came home. Alex had been waiting for him and went out to greet him the moment she saw the horse. He dismounted, handed the reins to Gavin, and came towards her, moving with less than his normal agility.
“They’ve hit you!” she said, taking in his swollen mouth.
“No great matter,” Matthew said, following her inside. “It’s this business with Oliver that has me concerned. I don’t understand, lass. It might be a coincidence that Oliver should be assigned to come to Cumnock, but the fact that he knows Luke makes it all smell of deceit. But why? How can Luke use the major against me? And why would Oliver lend himself to anything sordid to begin with?” He frowned, sitting down at the kitchen table. “I was right tempted to confront Oliver today, demand that he explain how he knows Luke, but that would not be wise. I need more information, and then I must tread with utmost care around this erstwhile friend of mine.”
Alex finished her inspection of his bruises and went over to the hearth.
“Next time I see the major I might be tempted to stick my fingers into his eyes. I hate the way he looks me over.”
“What? Have you seen him more than the once?”
Alex nodded and ladled up a serving of onion soup, handing him the bowl and a spoon before sitting down beside him.
“It’s strange; he’s been here a couple of times, but always on those searches when you haven’t been home. Twice when you accompanied Simon and Joan on their way to Edinburgh.”
“Why haven’t you told me?”
Alex shrugged; the appearance of soldiers on her land had become so much a daily occurrence that they merited nothing but the barest of comments. Even the children would look up from what they were doing, take in the milling men and then ignore them.
The soldiers seemed to find this both boring and embarrassing, and Alex capitalised on their ambiguity by being polite and offering them beer or cider after every search. It made Captain Howard break out in bright red spots to hear his men bid her a good day when they rode off. The major, however, had laughed and conversed her, complimenting her beer, her pie, and her tits – well, not vocally, but what with the way his eyes hung off her … She gnawed at her lip. Wyndham and Luke; Luke and Matthew, Hillview. Hillview! Yes, that was it; Wyndham was here because of Hillview.
“He’s here to ensure you’re not hanged,” Alex told Matthew in a voice that surprised even her by its matter-of-factness.
He gave her a guarded look.
“Luke doesn’t want you dead, because if that happens Hillview passes to Mark, right? No, Luke wants you fined, and then he’ll stand by as your home, your family and finally you are sold off to cover the price. Somehow he’s twisted Wyndham’s arm to ensure things go just as Luke has planned them. Very neat, don’t you think? And even better from Luke’s point of view is that you’ll have brought it all down on yourself.”
Matthew mulled this over for some time. “It fits. And Oliver warns me a couple of times and then one day he doesn’t, hoping I will think it safe.” He grimaced in disgust.
Alex took a deep breath. “This is the year when you don’t go to one single conventicle.”
“Nay, this is the year when I go even more canny. But I won’t be stopped from listening to the word of God; not by my brother or by that false friend of my youth.”
“And by your wife?” Alex had her heart in her mouth.
“Don’t ask that of me,” he said. “Please, Alex, don’t.”
Just like that he plunged them both into yet another killing silence, days when she evaded him, slipping like water through his fingers when he tried to corner her. In front of the bairns and the household Alex acted as if things were as they should, but once they were alone she closed down completely, escaping to her bed as soon as she could.
He tried; God knows he tried, holding long monologues where he attempted to explain that he needed this, it was like air and water to him, and of course he would be careful, mindful of every step he took. But she never replied, she just rolled over onto her side and turned her back on him. Only once did she say anything, after a night where Matthew had talked himself hoarse, giving up to subside into silence beside her.
She cleared her throat. “If anything happens to you, if they take you on the moor, I’ll kill all our children and then myself. Immediately. Just so you know.”
He lay stunned by her words for the rest of the night.
“You didn’t mean it,” he said flatly next morning, blocking her way out of the room.
Alex sat down on the bed and busied herself with her garters. “Don’t tell me what I mean or don’t mean.”
“You wouldn’t,” he pleaded.
“Yes I would – I’d have to.”
“But…” He shook his head. “It would be a grievous sin!”
Alex gave him a long look. “So if I kill our children and commit suicide rather than face the horrors of bonded labour that will inevitably lead to death or worse for children as young as ours, that’s a sin?”
He nodded.
“And so it follows that endangering yourself in such a manner so as to force me to do this is also a sin, right?”
He groaned, dragging a hand across his face.
She stood up and moved him aside. “Touché, I think.” She stopped and gripped the door jamb on her way out, keeping her back to him. “I do ask it of you, Matthew. This time I’m asking you – no, begging you – not to go near one single conventicle for the coming year.”
“And what will you do if I can’t promise you that?” he asked, forcing words up a windpipe that bristled with thorns.
“I don’t know,” she said softly. “But somehow I think our marriage will be over. At least it will never be what it used to be.”
“I see,” he said just as softly.
Chapter 26
Matthew was in a foul mood already before seeing the large troop of soldiers come down the lane. An ultimatum; Alex had placed him with his back against a wall, and even if he recognised that she did it out of fear – for him, for their children and for herself – he was foundering in waves of bright red anger that she should be making him choose between his faith and his family.
For a fleeting instant he wondered if Davy Williams had ever had these discussions with his wife, if it would have been easier had his Alex been a properly raised Christian instead of the half-heathen he still at times considered her to be. Williams was dead, he reminded himself, and so was his poor wife and most of the bairns, so it hadn’t helped much, had it?
So it was in a black temper that Matthew strode over to plant himself in front of Captain Howard and his men. Very many men, and dogs as well, the huge beasts held back by thick, studded collars.
“You best keep a hold on Aragorn,” he said to Ian, who had sprung up by his side. “Captain, to what do I owe this pleasure?” He pointedly looked over to where Samuel and Robbie were leading out the team of oxen. Late February was a hectic time on a farm, and he was quite convinced Captain Howard was aware of that.
“Oh, I’m sure you know why we are here,” Captain Howard said. “Last night we almost cornered Alexander Peden just off the road to Cumnock, and he was seen heading this way.”
“He must have come and left like a shadow in the night, for I haven’t seen him, nor do I harbour him.”
“Ah, Mr Graham, but that is what you would say.”
With that Howard nodded in the direction of the men holding the mastiffs and the dogs were released to run free, creating pandemonium as the farm animals reacted to these new, unwelcome visitors. Howard nodded again, and his men dismounted, drew their swords and went through every building.
Torn bags of seed, casks of beer and cider upended – everywhere they went they left a wake of destruction, making Matthew knot his hands in futile ire, aware that Howard was watching his every move. Matthew hoped Alex would appear by his side and slip her hand into his, but a furtive glance over his shoulder showed her standing by the kitchen door with Daniel in her arms, and he felt abandoned by her. She knew how much it cost him to hold on to his temper, how at times he struggled with pitch black rage, and now she was leaving him to battle it on his own. “
Our marriage will be over – or at least not what it used to be
,” rang in his head.
The soldiers came back shaking their heads and the dogs were called to heel. Matthew began to relax. Soon they’d be gone and he could go back to his spring planting and his marital issues. But Captain Howard wasn’t done. The officer sat on his horse, dark eyes wandering from Matthew to the stables and back again. A small smile appeared on the captain’s face, it broadened into a grin.
“You,” he said to one of his dragoons. “Go and get the stallion from his stall.”
“Ham?” Matthew’s voice rose. “Why would you take my horse?”
“Oh,” Captain Howard said, “we have need of new horses.”
“You won’t steal my horse,” Matthew said, taking a threatening step towards the captain.
The captain drew his sword. “Steal it? We’ll requisition it for the crown.”
“Nay, you won’t.” Matthew was going blind with rage. From very far away he heard Alex’ voice, her tone frantic as she called his name.
He took yet another step towards the captain, and the sword flashed down. There was a shout from behind him. Ian threw himself forward and grabbed hold of the captain’s arm, startling both horse and rider with his loud, angry yells. Matthew looked down at his shirt and at the blood that was welling from a long, shallow gash, and back up at the captain, who was struggling to control his mount. He heard Alex call his name again, and out of the corner of his eye he saw her hand Daniel to Sarah and come striding towards them.
“Get the lad off me,” the captain snarled before sorting that by himself, sending Ian to land in a heap on the ground.
Matthew growled, the captain raised his sword again. Matthew lunged, and the captain brought the flat of the narrow blade down hard on Matthew’s uncovered head. His knees buckled, pain shot like jagged bolts down his face and spine. There was a shriek, and a small shape came leaping over the ground.
“Not my da! Leave off, you nasty man. He’s bleeding.”
Rachel kept on screaming as she ran towards them. Like a small, avenging angel she pelted towards them, calling for her da. Her cap came off, her hair fell in untidy braids down to her shoulders and when the sun glinted on Howard’s naked sword she screamed even louder, a wordless sound of equal parts anger and fear.
“Rachel!” Matthew tried to call, but it came out as a croak. “Rachel, stop, lass, stay away, lassie.” He blinked in an effort to stop his head from swimming with pain and staggered towards her, arms held out to stop her. But Rachel took no notice. In her hand she brandished a stout stick and she wielded it at the horse.
“Go! Leave Da alone!” The stick connected with the horse’s leg with a dull crack.
The horse neighed and reared, front legs flailing. One huge hoof came down with a sickening crunch on the little head. Matthew watched in horror as Rachel crumpled, mouth open mid-sentence, eyes shifting from bright, angry green to dull, muddy hazel in seconds. The stout little body collapsed, the head swaying like an overweight cabbage on a stalk of grass. She hit the ground with a small thud, and Matthew couldn’t hear, he couldn’t see anything beyond the pitiful little shape that was his daughter.
“Oh, Lord,” Matthew was on his knees, his trembling hands stretched towards his unmoving lass. “Oh Jesus in heaven, my wee Rachel!” Not his lass, please Lord, not his lassie. He crawled towards her, tried to keep his eyes off her crushed skull. Two booted feet appeared in his shrinking field of vision, a man’s face was lowered to his. The captain – no longer contained but pale, shivering like an aspen leaf. My lass; sweetest Lord, look at my brave, bonny lass. The captain was talking. To him? Matthew couldn’t care less.
“It was not my intention,” the captain said. “I swear, Mr Graham, I would not have harmed a child.”
There was a keening sound in the air, a shrill sound that sliced like a honed sickle through Matthew’s brain. He stumbled to his feet, moving in the direction of Alex, now flying towards them with her skirts bunched in her hands.
“Rachel!” Alex screamed, pushing Matthew to the side. “Rachel! How many times have I told you… oh, God!” She skidded to a stop and then she was lying across her daughter, gently turning her over. “Come on Rachel, this isn’t funny, honey.” She kissed the pale face, shook the little body repeatedly. “Rachel?” the head lolled back. “No,” Alex moaned, “no, not Rachel.” She fumbled with her shawl, whispered to Rachel that it would be okay, of course it would, before wrapping the bleeding head, all the while talking to her child. “See?” she said. “Much better.”
When Rachel remained still and silent she gathered her daughter to her chest, she kissed her and called her name, she rocked back and forth, pleading with her to stop this play acting, to start moving again.
“Rachel, come on, Rachel.” She shook her, rocked her even harder, promising her she’d get the last slice of spice cake, but please, please, Rachel stop this right now, okay?
“She’s gone, Alex,” Matthew said hoarsely, shaken to his core by his wife’s behaviour. “She’s dead.”
“No!” Alex turned with blazing eyes. “She can’t be! She’s a child, for God’s sake. A baby, just four.” She was on her feet, Rachel a limp weight in her arms, walking away from them all, telling Rachel in a shrill, quavering voice that once they were inside she’d wash her and blow on the horrible wound and then it would be alright, of course it would.
He should go after her, he should… Matthew collapsed onto his knees, staring vacantly at the ground. Arms round his shoulders. Alex? Was that his Alex? Nay; Ian. He swayed on his knees, arms coming round Ian’s waist. Mayhap if he closed his eyes long enough this would go away, like a nightmare that bursts apart with the first rays of morning light. The captain knelt beside him.