The Betrayal of Maggie Blair - By Elizabeth Laird Page 0,116

my little hoard began to grow until they jingled satisfactorily in my pocket. The weight of Tam's purse, though, weighed heavily on my conscience. When the soldier had given it to me, it had felt at first like a gift from beyond the grave, but every time I heard the sound of singing from the prisoners, the thought of the stolen money made me flinch with shame.

Uncle Blair would never have touched it, I told myself. If he was me, he'd have flung it straight into the sea.

But I kept the money, all the same.

Chapter 30

As usual, the first that we in the kitchens heard of visitors to the castle was an order for a special banquet. The countess sent for Mr. Haddo, who came hurrying back down our steps, wiping his brow, which was furrowed with anxiety, and repeating under his breath the long list of dishes that she had ordered. We were sent scurrying to pluck geese and ducklings, top and tail gooseberries for the sauce, shell crabs, knead the bread dough, and clean the spit for the haunches of venison, while Mr. Haddo made up the stuffing for the woodcock and tossed up a fry of cocks' combs.

"Who's it all for? Who's coming?" I asked a scullion, without much interest.

"How should I know? Here, you've to gut this salmon."

But as I passed a pair of men bringing in fuel for the roaring kitchen fires, I heard one of them say, "It's the Lords Errol and Kintore, from Edinburgh. They've come about the prisoners."

My hand, already greasy with fish guts, slipped on the knife I was holding, and I almost cut myself. I strained to listen.

"Let's hope they're taking the fools away," grumbled the second man. "The way they drone on with their psalms gives me the creeps."

"Are you sure?" I dared ask. "Are they really coming about the Presbyterians? Are they going to take them away?"

"No point asking me," he answered. "Move, will you? How am I supposed to get these logs past with you standing there like a stone?"

***

They brought the prisoners out onto the castle green the very day after the banquet for the two noble lords. Mr. Haddo, exhausted by the effort of preparing the great feast, had relaxed his grip on the kitchens and didn't even try to prevent his minions from pouring out of the bakery, brewery, dairy, and storerooms to stare and wonder at the people they had only heard singing, and had smelled, until now.

The sight of the wretched crowd of skeletons, with matted hair and clothes that had become no more than filthy rags, silenced everyone. The whole castle had come out to look. Maids hung out of upper windows, grooms emerged from the stables, and even the soldiers stood quietly, looking almost ashamed.

The murmur of shocked sympathy died away almost at once to leave an uneasy silence. Then one of the stable boys shouted out, "Serves you right, you stinking traitors. God save the king!"

It was as if the others had been waiting for their cue. The lad's high-pitched voice had hardly died away when a chorus of jeers and catcalls broke out. Voices from all around the green yelled, "Get them out of here! String them up! Where's your precious Covenant now, you fools?"

Suddenly, I saw him. Uncle Blair was standing in the middle of a group of men who looked more like standing corpses than living people. He was shading his eyes, as if blinded by the daylight after so long in the darkness of the dungeon. He was as thin as a pike shaft, and as waxy-pale as a mushroom. I saw him stagger and clutch at the arm of the man beside him. I thought he was on the point of death.

I lost all sense of danger and threw away my weeks of caution in one scream of anguish.

"Uncle Blair! Oh, please! Uncle!"

I didn't even reach him. A soldier grabbed hold of me and clipped my arms tightly behind my back.

"Well, well! So the piper's little girl is a damned Presbyterian after all!"

His voice was grim. He fumbled at his waist, and I heard a rattle as something cold and hard snapped around my wrists. Then I knew what I'd done and shuddered with dread. The soldiers were working their way around the hundred or more prisoners, wrenching their bone-thin arms back, and clamping on heavy manacles. A few moments later, I found myself chained to a woman who was so weak that she