The Betrayal of Maggie Blair (33 page)

I lost sight of Tam almost at once. He was borne off toward a beefy sergeant, who clapped him so hard on the shoulder that the old man nearly fell over. One of the soldiers who had brought us in told me to follow him to the kitchen.

I hesitated, scared of being separated from Tam.

"Follow him if you like," jeered the man. "But it's only whores who go into the barracks."

I blushed and hurried after him, lost at once in the maze of passageways that led to the kitchens, which seemed to be on the farthest side of the castle, facing out to the open sea. My eyes darted everywhere, but I saw no sign of a prison where a large number of people could be held.

A huge man came out at a call. He was naked to the waist and wet with sweat. He frowned at the soldier's explanation but nodded in the end. He pointed to a corner where I was to put my bundle and told me to follow him.

The heat from the roaring fire and gaping bread ovens nearly knocked me over, but I had no time to get used to it.

"Peel that lot and chop them up," the man said curtly, pointing to a huge stack of onions. For the rest of the day, I was kept hard at work with no break to eat or drink. But a kitchen isn't a bad place if you're hungry, and I managed to sneak an oatcake or two, and even picked a few scraps from the carcass of a roasted chicken before it went into the stockpot.

The kitchens were full of people working furiously under the eyes of the mountainous chief cook, but no one asked me about myself or exchanged any words except for curt commands.

"There's a new piper. That's his granddaughter," I heard someone say. "Till old Angus's bones have mended."

"That'll be the day," a scullion said with a sniff. "The man's going so hard at his bottle that his bones'll be liquid before they grow back together."

My heart sank.

We might have to stay here forever,
I thought.
If there's no other piper, they'll never let Tam go.

I didn't dare ask anyone about the prisoners. The clatter and bustle in the kitchen was so great, anyway, that the talk was all in snatches. I heard a bit about the Earl Marischal's tempers and whims (he seemed to be the hardest of taskmasters), and some cursing over the countess's little dogs (though she seemed to be a kinder sort of person), and the soldiers' appetites (which were unreasonably huge, according to the head cook), and the poor quality of the rabbits delivered from the Marischal's mainland farms. But there was not one word about Presbyterians or Covenanters or prisoners.

Perhaps they're not here at all,
I thought.
Perhaps we've come to the wrong place, or they've been taken somewhere else.

And then, as the afternoon began to end and the light through the narrow windows began to dim, I was sent on an errand to the storeroom at the far end of the kitchen. The door into the passage beyond opened, and a servant came in. He brought with him a stench so appalling that I rocked back.

"Bah! Close that door!" bawled the master cook.

"What is it?" I dared to ask Agnes, a thin, pimply girl, who had smiled shyly at me once or twice as she'd hurried past and was now reaching over me to fill a pot with salted herrings from a barrel.

"Don't you know? It's coming from the prison."

"What prison? Who's in there?"

"The Presbyterians. The Covenanters. There's nearly two hundred of them. They're all crammed into a little cellar. There's not even space for them all to sit down. I know they're wicked, and against the king and all that, but I feel sorry for them really."

My heart had begun to pound.

How dare you call them wicked! It's the king who's wicked!
I wanted to say. But I bit my lip and asked instead, "Have you seen them? Have you talked to any of them?"

She looked shocked.

"Why would I do that? They're traitors! I couldn't, anyway, even if I wanted to. There are soldiers guarding the door all the time. The only window's at the back, right over the cliff, and it's really small."

The door opened again, and the stink made me retch.

"Why does it smell so bad?"

Agnes had clapped her hand over her mouth and nose, and I could hardly make out her words.

"Nowhere in there for them to do their—you know. Been locked up for weeks, and they have to do it where they stand. Serves them right, I suppose, but it's disgusting when you think about it."

"But they must be getting sick! They must be dying!"

I was trying to stop my voice from rising in distress.

She shrugged.

"They do bring bodies out sometimes. I've seen them. Pah! I can't stand this stink any longer."

She had filled her pot with herrings and hurried back into the kitchen.

Then, above the banging of cooking pots, the shouts of the cook, and the ever-present crash and suck of the sea on the rocks below the kitchen windows came the sound of singing. It was a faint sound, tremulous, mournful, and full of longing.

"
Lord, from the depths to thee I cried,
My voice, Lord, do thou hear!
"

Tears pricked my eyes as I recognized a psalm, which I had sung so often on dark winter evenings and in the last blush of summer nights at Ladymuir.

"
I wait for God, my soul doth wait,
My hope is in his word.
More than they that for morning watch,
My soul waits for the Lord.
"

"You! Girl! Come back here!" came an angry yell from the kitchen, but as I hurried back into the blistering heat, I felt a new certainty. Uncle Blair was close by, I was sure of it. And though thick walls of stone and armed guards stood between us, I would find a way to carry out my promise to reach him and give him help.

***

The chance I had hoped for came that very evening. The grand people in their stately rooms above the kitchens had had their luxurious supper of roasted beef and smothered rabbits, and the soldiers, servants, and workmen had gobbled down hearty stews and mounds of bannocks. The day's work in the kitchen was done, and it was time for the cooks and scullions to eat.

I made a sudden decision.

"Where's the latrine?" I asked the skinny girl. "I need to go."

She jerked her head toward the entrance to the kitchens through which I'd come.

"Up there, then down to the right."

I took a few steps, saw that her back was turned and hesitated, as if I was confused. No one was looking at me. I slipped down to the far end of the storeroom and opened the door into the passageway, biting my lip at the creak of the heavy hinges. The stench was so awful that I was afraid I would be sick, and I was glad I hadn't yet had supper, as I might have lost it all. To my left, I could hear men's voices and guessed they were the guards. To my right was an archway, and beyond it, in the near darkness, I saw the white crests of waves rolling in from the sea to break thunderously on the rocks.

The prison has a window,
the kitchen girl had said.
It's right above the sea.

I was lucky, I suppose, that the light was now so bad, because if I had been able to see the sickening drop, I might not have had the courage to set out along the little ledge that ran between the castle wall and the cliff edge. It was just wide enough to walk along but crumbling in places, and a single false step would have sent me hurtling down onto the rocks. I came at last to the window, a small, square hole at the height of my shoulders. The walls were so thick that I had to peer in to see anything. But then something white and living moved inside it, startling me so much that I nearly took a disastrous backward step. It was only a face, a man's face, pale and gaunt, the eyes wide and staring. He looked more terrified at the sight of me than I was of him.

"Please," I said, "are you one of the Presbyterians?"

"I have that honor." He licked his dry lips. "Are you an unearthly being? Have you come with more mockeries to torment us? I say unto you, get thee behind me, Satan!"

"No!" I looked back along the way I had come, scared in case my voice could be heard. "I'm looking for my uncle, Mr. Hugh Blair of Ladymuir in Kilmacolm. Is he here?"

Two other faces squeezed beside the first to look out through the small space. I heard interest and even excitement ripple back through the dense mass of humanity, and I could sense rather than see the close-packed crowd of bodies inside.

"Who is it?" voices said. "A girl? What's she doing out there? She's asking for Hugh Blair? Where are you, Hugh? Come over here. There's a lassie asking for you."

The displacement of bodies inside the vault stirred the foul air, and it poured out of the window in a nauseous cloud. And then Uncle Blair was suddenly, unmistakably there, inches away from me, and though his lower face was covered with a beard and his head had become as thin as a grinning skull, I knew his eyes and his voice as he cried out, "Maggie! Dear girl! Are you real or a dream? Oh take care! Don't step backwards. There's a terrible drop behind you."

I heard a heavy door crash shut in the castle, and with tense fingers I fumbled for the coins that I had kept and carried so carefully for this moment. I thrust them through the bars.

"What's this? Where did this silver come from?"

"From home. From Ladymuir. Ritchie borrowed it from the laird. I came to give it to you."

He gave a shaky laugh.

"The Lord heard my prayer and answered me in my distress. There are poor souls here, faithful to Christ, in more severe trouble than I am. This will go some way to..."

"No, Uncle, please!" I spoke too sharply, scaring myself, and lowered my voice again. "I came here for your sake, and for the family at home." I couldn't bear to think that this precious money might not help Uncle Blair after all. "I—I risked everything to come here. This money is for you."

It was too dark to read the expression on his face, but I knew that knots of moral struggle would be creasing his forehead.

"It's time to move on, Hugh," came a quiet voice at his shoulder.

"I must go back in, my dear." Uncle Blair's hand reached out, and for a moment our fingers touched. "We must take turns to breathe at the window, or we suffocate. My brethren have already been too patient. I will use these precious coins to buy food, Maggie dear, and I promise I will eat some of it myself."

The pale face of another man took his place, his mouth gaping open, a black hole, sucking in the few precious gasps of fresh air. Behind him came a murmur of voices.

"Your uncle wishes you to know," the man at the window said, "that your coming has cheered him like a shaft of light direct from Heaven."

He moved, and the next man stood at the window. There was more murmuring behind him.

"How are his wife and the children? He has been tormented by fears for them."

"They're well," I whispered. "Ritchie borrowed enough from the laird to pay the fine. They're managing."

Another face appeared.

"Your uncle wants to warn you that you're in great danger if the enemy discover that you came here as our friend. Others who have done so have been thrown in here with us."

"Tell him," I said, "that I'll be safe. The piper Tam brought me. They think I'm his granddaughter."

I wished at once that I'd held my tongue. Uncle Blair wouldn't like to know that a lie had been told.

But the next man, having listened to the voice behind him, said simply, "Your uncle thanks you from his heart. He will call upon the Lord to help you and see you safely home."

Another door banged somewhere behind me, and voices came floating out from the passageway. I edged back along the ledge, ran through the arch into the passageway, and made it almost to the door that led back into the storeroom.

"Hey! You!" shouted a rough voice. "Where do you think you're going?"

A guard hurried toward me, and I caught the glint of a dagger in his hand.

"I'm sorry," I said hastily. "I'm new here. I work in the kitchen. I'm looking for the latrine."

"Up there," the man said, pointing behind him. Then he peered closely at me through the gloom. "Don't come this way again."

"I won't."

He put out a hand. I was afraid he would grab me, and I slid past him and ran on up the passage.

Back inside the storeroom, I stood against the door for a long moment, my eyes shut. The horror of what I'd seen had shaken me so much that I was trembling uncontrollably.

He can't survive much longer. He looks like a corpse already,
I thought.
And I can't help him any more.

"There you are!" Agnes had come in search of me. "Got lost, did you? Took me ages when I first came to find my way around. I kept some supper for you. You'd better come and eat it quickly, or they'll clear it all away."

Work in the kitchens in Dunnottar Castle was so hard, so hot and hectic and exhausting, that for the next week I hardly had time to think of anything except how to relieve the ache in my back from hauling heavy loads, or how to avoid the curses and blows of Mr. Haddo, the endlessly infuriated master cook.

I had no other chance to go to the tiny window of the prisoners' vault, and in my heart of hearts I wasn't sorry. The thought of looking once again into that pit of horror filled me with dread. But at least I'd carried out my task. I'd given Uncle Blair the money Ritchie had entrusted to me, so that he could buy food (though I'd learned by now that the soldiers charged exorbitant sums for small amounts of bread and even for water). The best thing was that I'd discovered he was still alive.

Occasionally, above the mundane noises of the castle, I heard the faint sound of singing, as the Covenanters comforted themselves with the psalms they all knew by heart. Often their music was silenced by threats and jeers from the guards. I was guiltily relieved when the singing stopped. It made my throat tighten with sorrow, and my heart thump with anxiety every time I thought of their suffering.

At night, though, I often heard another kind of music. The garrison was working Tam hard. I'd grown up with the sound of his piping, but I'd never heard him play as he did on those nights in Dunnottar. He seemed to be inspired by the spirit of music itself, as if his soul was reaching out to find it.