And sure enough, he discovered that a foreign-looking lass with long dark hair and a strange accent had taken a meal last night at the White Hart Inn. She had not stayed the night, however.
Fed and watered, they pressed on. It was three days hard ride to Carlisle. She would need to rest her horse eventually, as would they. She couldn’t keep riding without a break. He fretted at the notion of her riding alone at night on the road. Anything could happen to her.
When they reached Penicuik two hours later, he was relieved to learn that she had stopped for the night there and left in the early hours of the morning. They stopped for another meal and pushed onto Peebles, a further two hours ride. By this time, the horses were well and truly done in and the lads not much better. Worryingly, Col could glean no knowledge of her in Peebles, but both horses and the lads could go no further, and he elected to stay the night at the better of Peebles’ two hostelries.
Aihan shifted in the bracken, trying to get comfortable. It had stopped raining, but the ground was still wet and there was a stiff breeze if she poked her head up to get a good look at the road below. She had tethered the mare in the stand of trees behind her hiding place and hoped she would not give away her position. The group of men had been tailing her since Teviothead, and she’d left the road in an effort to lose them.
Their leader, a big burly fellow with dark, wiry hair and beard, had accosted her in the yard of the inn where she was about to order a meal. When she pulled a dagger on him, he backed away with hands raised. But the whole time she sat andate her meal in the tap, he kept looking at her, and there was much low talk among him and his compatriots. While she only a caught a few words, she was not fooled into thinking the talk was anything but bawdy and all pointed in her direction.
When she had finished her meal, she slipped out the back to the privy and hid there until the men emerged, looking around for her. They paced about a bit and then mounted their horses and left. She followed a little later, hoping she had lost them, only to discover about an hour later that they must have hidden somewhere and emerged when she went past them. She spurred the mare to a gallop to outrun them and, having crested a rise out of their sight, she plunged off the side of the road and up a slight incline to hide amongst the bracken and trees at the top of the rise.
The problem with her plan was that as soon as they topped the rise, they would see the road ahead was empty and realise she had gone off into the fields. It wouldn’t take them long to find her hiding place if they were persistent enough to track her, and then she would be trapped. Her hope was that they would go a little further down the road before commencing to look, enabling her to remount and make a getaway.
It seemed, though, that her luck had run out this day. So far, her journey had been relatively uneventful, if tiring. She had attracted some attention and a bit of suspicion, as Mac had warned her she would, but none had refused to serve her when it became clear that she spoke English and had coin to pay her way.
As the pack of them topped the rise in the road and saw no sign of her ahead, the leader signalled to his men to spread out and look for her. He himself came off the road, heading straight in her direction. Cursing under her breath, she backed out of her hiding spot and ran to the mare. She unlooped her rein fromthe tree branch, mounted swiftly, and kicked her into a canter, heading deeper in the trees.
It was darker under the canopy, filtering out most of the meagre daylight from the cloudy sky, and heavy drops of water dripped from the leafy branches overhead. Soft tree mulch muffled the horses’ hooves, and she urged the long-suffering mare forward, bending low to avoid tree branches getting in her face. Zigzagging through the trees, she soon lost her bearings and was alarmed to hear the crack of a tree branch behind her. Glancing back, she saw her pursuer bearing down on her like a black devil from Diyu—the prison below the earth where the souls of the dead go to atone for their sins.
They left at first light, and Col was impressed with his boys who, despite being tired and sore, did not complain. Their objective was Teviothead, but the fact that he had not been able to glean any word of her in Peebles had him concerned. He stopped briefly at each village they passed through to try to pick up her trail. Stopping so frequently slowed them down, and his worry mounted as he was unable to find any trace of her. He was torn by wondering if she had taken a different route or, more worryingly, that something had happened to her. But they pushed on and reached Teviothead by late afternoon.
He at last got news of her from the village’s only inn. The landlady, Molly George, wiped her hands on her apron and nodded. “Aye, a lass of that description stopped here a few hours past. She ordered a meal and ate in the tap. I didn’t see her leave, but she may have hid to avoid the attentions of a group of men who seemed mighty taken with her, if ye know what I mean. Quite rough looking they were, a deal of bawdy talk they made in her direction. If my husband had been here, he might have warned them off, but I’ll admit I wasnae game to interfere.”
“How many men?” he asked, his heart thudding with sick force in his chest.
“Half a dozen?” she guessed. “Their leader was a big swarthy fellow. They looked like soldiers to me, or perhaps mercenaries, as they wore nae uniform.”
“Can I pay for two rooms for the night and a meal, please? I’ll be leaving my lads here and going after the lass. She’s my wife, ye ken.”
“Oh, aye?” She looked at him suspiciously. “Then why might she be running away from ye?”
Col flushed. “It’s nae what it looks like. She had bad news of her brother and took off when I was from home. As soon as I learned she’d gone, I followed, fearing exactly what seems to have occurred. Please believe me, I’m worried sick about her.”
She nodded slowly; seemingly, his evident worry was convincing.As it should be, for it is the truth.
“Do ye have a horse I can hire? Mine is fair spent.”
Col explained what had happened to the boys, and that his intention was to return with Aihan, emphasising that they should remain here until he returned.
“Can I trust ye to be sensible and do as I say?” he asked.
“Aye, Athair, fetch Aihan and give her our love. We’ll await ye here,” said Rory firmly with a look at Callum, who nodded. Mrs George would keep an eye on the boys for him, she was a good woman.
“Aihan knows how to fight, Athair,” said Rory reassuringly.
“Aye, I know, lad, but I’d be hard-pressed to hold my own with a half-dozen men, and she’s a sight smaller and lighter than I am. Ye ken the danger she’s in. It’s a mite different from what any man would face from a bunch of thugs.”
Rory nodded. “Ye’ll find her and bring her back safe.”
Col wasn’t sure if that was a statement or a question, but took it for the former, wishing he had Rory’s confidence.
He hugged both boys and went to change his sodden clothing. With a fresh mount, some bread and cheese, and a skinful each of water and wine, he set off south. He had brought a pair of pistols and two knives with him and hoped that he wouldn’t need them.
Aihan urged the mare on, ducking and weaving through the trees, but the man behind her had a larger, faster horse, and he was gaining on her. Her breath came in short pants and her heart beat a loud tattoo in her chest as she looked for a suitable place to take a stand and fight the wretch off. But there was little to recommend itself that she could see. Another glance over her shoulder showed him closer still, and she shuddered. She had no illusions about what he wanted with her.
She turned her head to face forward again, and her blood ran cold. A fallen tree lay across the path in front of her. There was nowhere to go to avoid it as other trees crowded in on either side and the mare was flying too fast to check. The animal gathered and bunched and went over the obstacle, but she landed awry and Aihan felt herself pitched forward out of the saddle and straight over the horse’s head. She curled herself and rolled to minimise the impact and chance of injury; even so, she was winded and disoriented by the tumble, and jagged branches from the fallen tree tore at her clothing and flesh as she rolled. Coming to a bruising stop against the trunk of another tree, she lay winded a moment, trying to catch her breath and gather her wits.
It was a moment too long, as her pursuer loomed over her.
