The Betrayal of Maggie Blair - By Elizabeth Laird Page 0,112

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."

Chapter 29

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.

When my work in the kitchens was over at last and the last glow of the summer light was fading from the castle walls, I would stand drained with weariness at the edge of the green space in front of the barracks to listen to Tam's piping. His jigs and reels bore in them an almost unbearable gaiety, and his laments carried a world of suffering. Against the music I would hear the shouts and laughter of the men. Slowly, as the night went on, the notes would become a little less rhythmic, a little more blurred, and so it would go on until he let the air out of his bag in a final hideous wail. I knew then that he had drunk himself to silence.

In the first couple of weeks, he came often to the kitchen to see me. He would stand in the doorway peering in, and if I saw him before anyone else did, I would be able to run across to him. We never managed more than a few minutes, though, before the master cook shouted at me to get