The Betrayal of Maggie Blair - By Elizabeth Laird Page 0,58

worked at with dabs of soap. Aunt produced shoes from her chest and held a pair against my foot.

"These will do," she said. "Try them on, Maggie."

I'd never worn a pair of shoes before, and they felt stiff and cramping around my toes, but I was proud, too, and stammered out my thanks. Aunt Blair, even though she tried to be a good plain Puritan, always softened when it came to matters of dress.

"Don't mind if they pinch a little, dearie. You'll carry them till we're nearly there and put them on before we arrive."

"How far is the church?" I asked.

"Well..."

She shot a look at my uncle. He had been sitting at the table filing a metal link for his plow, but he put it down and patted the bench beside him, inviting me to sit.

"You can forget about that haunt of evil men that calls itself a church," he said gravely. "While you're under my roof, you'll have nothing to do with that dunghill of royal wickedness, and neither will any of my household. Now listen, while I tell you what's happening here in Kilmacolm."

"Hugh..." began Aunt Blair, but he silenced her with a nod.

"No, Isobel. Maggie's one of us now. She's a good girl. We've all seen how hard she's tried to do her best in this family these last months. She's my brother Danny's daughter. She'd not betray us, not even for silver or gold, I know it."

I was warmed through by his words and felt a rush of love for him.

"I'd never betray you, Uncle. But how could I, anyway?"

"Very easily." Aunt Blair had picked up her sewing again. "One word to the minister..."

Uncle Blair ignored her.

"Maggie, you'll have heard of the Covenant?" he said. "Do you know what it means?"

"Not really," I admitted.

"Then it's time you did." He paused, as if gathering his thoughts. "King Charles Stuart, of evil fame, and his wicked father James before him, puffed themselves up with pride and arrogance. They took it into their heads that it is the right of the king, and not the right of the Lord our God, to be rulers over our Presbyterian church in Scotland."

I was frowning, trying to understand. I could imagine the king, all puffed up with pride so that he was monstrously fat, and I supposed he'd be wearing a silver coat and have a golden crown on his head, like the fairy king in one of Tam's stories. And his wicked eyes would be red like glowing embers.

I nearly missed the next part of Uncle's explanation.

"We are a chosen few," he was saying earnestly. "A sacred remnant. The Lord has called us to stand firm for the difficult right against the easy wrong. If we give way, Maggie, and bow our necks humbly to this king, the bishops he wishes to set over us will force us to obey them. They'll tell us how to pray and what to preach. They'll try to make us think that what the king wants, God wants. They'll take away our freedom and make us servants while they loll fatly in their luxury and gluttony."

His words rolled richly around and over themselves, as if he was preaching a sermon himself.

"But if we're not going to the kirk tomorrow, Uncle," I dared to ask at last, "why have we been brushing our clothes and fetching out the shoes?"

"Ah, Maggie!" He smiled, with a look that was almost mischievous, like a boy planning to raid a neighbor's apple tree. "That's the nub of the matter. Mr. Irving, the king's chosen minister, will preach to an empty kirk tomorrow morning, as he has done to his own rage and fury these many weeks past. But we'll be up early and away across the moss into the hills with all of the true Presbyterian brothers. Our good old minister, Mr. Alexander, who was thrown out of his kirk and his manse by the king's men, will lead us in our prayers and preach to us from the Good Book."

"But it's a great secret, Maggie," Aunt Blair said, holding up her forefinger. "To meet for prayer in the open is against the law—"

"Against the king's law, not against God's," interrupted Uncle Blair.

"Yes, Hugh, but let me tell her. Maggie, if we're caught by the troops or if someone betrays us, they will put us in prison. They'll take everything from us in fines. They could even hang us from the gallows! Hugh..." Her voice had risen with anxiety, and