landing, restless and quarrelsome.
It was hopeless. I knew it was. Surely the ledges would all be empty. Surely this was a waste of time. But then I saw it. An egg—large, spotted, and unbroken—lay on a ledge below me, just beyond my reach.
I stretched my arm down as far as it would go and wriggled a little farther forward. A great white bird came flying at me like a dart from the sea. It shrieked, its neck thrust out, trying to snap at my fingers. I beat at it and lunged for the egg.
There was a terrible shriek and a confusion of flapping wings. As the bird tumbled backwards into flight, its foot dislodged the precious egg, which flew off the ledge and shattered on the rocks far below.
As I watched it go, I felt as if I was falling with it. My whole body began to shake with fright. I'd reached too far and didn't see how I could haul myself back. My hands had nothing to hold on to. My legs were beginning to slip. I didn't dare try to wriggle backwards. The slightest movement, I knew, would tip me irretrievably over the edge.
"Jesus!" I whispered. "Granny! Oh, Jesus!"
And then I felt a pair of strong hands grasp my ankles, and I was being wrenched back from the cliff edge.
"What do you think you're doing? Whatever were you thinking?"
Musketeer Sharpus flipped me over so that I was lying in a heap on the heather, looking up at him. I scrambled to my feet. He grabbed me again and dragged me farther away from the hideous drop, as if he was afraid that I would run back to it and throw myself over.
"Are you crazy?"
His eyes seemed to be almost starting from his head with shock and anger.
I struggled free. I tried to speak, but I was shaking so hard my teeth were chattering together.
"Th-thank you," I managed to say. "I would have fallen if you hadn't come."
He took hold of my arm again and shook me roughly.
"Don't you know that self-murder is a mortal sin? You would have gone straight to Hell without hope of Purgatory."
"I didn't want to kill myself!"
"Then what were you doing?"
I swallowed, knowing how silly I sounded.
"I needed an egg. I was trying to take one from the ledge there."
He stared at me, incredulous, then burst out laughing.
"You silly girl! If you wanted an egg, why didn't you ask me? I could have gotten you one from the farmer. You can't eat gulls' eggs, anyway. Any that haven't hatched will be rotten by now." His eyes suddenly narrowed. "Unless you wanted an unborn chick for some uncanny purpose. You don't make spells, do you? You're not experimenting with unholy things?"
"No!" I almost choked in my eager denial. "I'd tell you, but you wouldn't like it."
"Try me."
I saw that I had no choice.
"My uncle's hands are burned. I heard somewhere that if you crush burdock leaves into egg white it's good for healing burns."
"Oh." His voice had changed. I dared to look up at him and was surprised to see that he was frowning. "I never liked that business of burning hands. Keeping traitors close in prison is one thing, but torture and starvation—they're not right, to my mind."
He had one hand in the small of my back and steered me back toward the barn.
"I'll get you an egg," he said. His voice was soft and gruff. "I'll bring it in to you. Go on in now."
Another soldier was guarding the door. He raised his eyebrows at the sight of us and dug Musketeer Sharpus in the ribs.
"You're a sly one. Up for it, is she? Let me have a go, and I won't tell the sergeant."
"You won't tell anyone anything, my lad," Musketeer Sharpus said severely. "Not if you don't want everyone to know about the musket you lifted from the guardroom and sold to that poacher. You won't take any liberties with this girl either. She's respectable."
Inside the barn, not one of the exhausted Covenanters seemed to be awake. I slipped across to the far end and sank down beside Uncle Blair. How still he was, his chest barely moving as he breathed. He looked sad in his sleep and much, much older. His injured hands were lying by his side.
I felt a wave of anger.
Why did you let them do this to him, God? I thought. These people are only trying to be faithful to you. Why are you treating them like