Chapter 2

At dawn, Norah was preparing to go to market for Caitrin, carrying her dried berries and mushrooms to sell. She was a little apprehensive, as she had never done such a thing before, but Caitrin kissed her cheek and hugged her.

"If an old woman like me can sell vegetables, so can a pretty wee thing like you," she said sternly, although Norah could see the twinkle in her eye. "Dinnae tell me ye cannae dae it!"

Norah was beginning to love the old lady, who was so much more affectionate than the nannies she had as a child. She had never really known either of her grandmothers, both of whom had died when she was a baby, so she pretended that Caitrin was her grandmother. After all, she was never going to have another one.

The old lady was kind, but she could be stern and unyielding in many ways. She passionately hated the English, and was not afraid to show it. Her husband had been killed by one, not in battle, but in the course of an ordinary day. She had always been a proud Highlander, but that was the moment a bitter, abiding hatred had settled in Caitrin's heart. She had kept it close and nurtured it ever since.

As Norah packed her baskets, Caitrin looked on approvingly. When she was finished she looked up and smiled at her benefactor. "I hope I do well for you today," she said anxiously. "I will try my hardest, Caitrin, I promise."

"I know ye will," Caitrin answered. "One more thing, hen. There is always a stall full of used clothes there. Get yourself a kirtle an' a nightdress. If they dinnae fit I will fix them."

Once more, Norah was overcome by the old lady's kindness, and she wrapped her arms around her in a tight hug before climbing onto the cart that would take her to the market. She was truly blessed to have found a friend like Caitrin Wallace.

In the midst of the Scottish Highlands, Tearlach's bright red hair was usually hardly noticeable, since it was such a common color. When he was picking his way through a shady forest trying to avoid capture by the English, however, it might as well have been a beacon. He drew the hood of his cloak over his head and dismounted from his horse. He began to move as stealthily as he could through the thick trunks of the pine trees. The area through which he was moving was uneven and rock-strewn, and he cursed impatiently as he stumbled through it.

For a big man, he could move surprisingly quietly, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he caught sight of the shores of Loch Dubh, because then he could urge his horse into a gallop and outrun them easily. No one could beat his chestnut stallion, Rory, but it had not stopped dozens from trying. However, just as Tearlach was beginning to relax, he caught a glimpse of a familiar bright red jacket through the trees, and stopped dead in his tracks. The English were already here.

The English soldiers were so arrogant they were not even trying to be silent. They were chatting, laughing and joking amongst themselves, and one of them even broke into a bawdy song. There were only three of them, but that was more than was needed to capture him and drag him away. He could see that at least one of them was slightly tipsy, and contempt flared up in him as he watched them. He wished he was carrying his sword and was able to take their heads off with a single swipe.

He knew that the village of Rosblane was only a short distance away, and a market was being held there that morning. It was a blessing because there would be so many people there that he might be able to blend in and make his escape. However, he would have to crouch down a little because he was so much taller than everyone else, and that might make him even more noticeable.

Should he attempt it or stay where he was and hope they passed by without noticing him? If he left, he would have to leave Rory behind, since he could not ride a valuable horse into a crowd of working people. A horse like Rory would make him stand out like a sore thumb.

Leaving his best friend behind would be a huge loss to him, but he had to think of his own life first. He had no idea when he would be back, but he was fairly sure that he would, so he decided to leave him where he was and come back for him later. If the redcoats found Rory, he doubted they would treat him badly, since a valuable horse was always a great asset.

Tearlach took out the little sack of oats he always carried for him and emptied them on the ground. The horse began to eat them at once, giving him time to make his escape, but his heart was breaking. ‘I will be back soon, big man' he thought sorrowfully.

He paused to look around for a moment just as he arrived at the edge of the market, then picked his way through the crowds, but his height gave him away, even though he was crouching slightly to hide it. The redcoats, who were still on horseback, glanced his way, and a shout rang out. They had seen him. However, being seated on horses was not to their advantage in a tightly packed crowd like this one.

Eventually they dismounted and began to advance toward him, but the villagers, who had seen the fugitive and grasped the situation in a moment, tried to obstruct them by crowding around them, offering them wares from their stalls. This gave Tearlach time to plunge through the crowd, all of whom made way for him.

One stallholder, a young man, beckoned him and urged him to scramble under his table where he hid between some crates of vegetables. He had never been so cramped and uncomfortable in his life, but anything was better than being captured by the English. God alone knew what would happen to him then!

He stayed where he was for what seemed like an age before he judged it safe to move out, and thanked the young man by slipping a sixpenny piece into his palm. He crawled away, then stood up and began to run, but he looked back to see if anyone was following. Seeing no one in pursuit, Tearlach continued on, looking behind his shoulder until collided with a woman who was standing with her back to him talking to someone.

At the same time, his hood slipped back. The young woman stumbled forward a little and turned to reprimand him, but he had whipped his hood back and was gone before either of them could see the others' face.

‘Damn!'he thought furiously. ‘What on earth possessed me to come to this place? I must have been mad!' The truth was that he had been trying to buy some food, since he had been living off the land for days now, picking berries and mushrooms and killing the odd squirrel. He'd had nothing to drink but water and longed for a glass of ale, or milk. Whisky was a distant dream, but that was the least of his worries.

He looked up at the sky. Fortunately there was no sign of rain. The sky was white and hazy, but he could not trust it to stay that way. This was Scotland, after all! If he was to stay hidden from his enemies and live to tell the tale, he was going to have to find shelter. He was in a pine forest, but the shore of the two lochs, Loch Binnie and Loch Dubh, along which the forest ran was steep-sided and rocky, and there were plenty of caves to hide in.

He would once more be sleeping rough, but by now he was accustomed to it. One thing he had to do was to go and recover Rory if he could. He only hoped that his faithful friend was still where he had left him.

However, he wanted to wait until the light dimmed a little, but that would not be for a long time yet. It was late summer, not quite autumn yet, and that meant daylight that lasted fairly late into the evening. That had been wonderful when he was a child, when he could play almost until nightfall, but in the circumstances in which he found himself now it was extremely dangerous.

He found a crack between two rocks that was just about wide enough to admit him, and cursed as he squeezed into the narrow space, then pulled a few branches over himself. If the redcoats made a cursory inspection, he would be safe, but if they decided on a thorough search he was doomed. He sighed angrily and closed his eyes. If there was nothing more he could do then he might as well sleep.

However, in his cramped uncomfortable quarters, he was not able to even do that. He pushed the branches that were covering him away and looked around, relieved to see that there were no redcoats anywhere. Moreover, from what he could hear from the market, it was busier than ever. If that was the case, he would have to hope that the vendors had plenty of stock and dropped some of their food on the floor when they left that night. Otherwise he would go hungry again.

Tearlach once more picked his way through the trees trying to make as little noise as he could. Perhaps he could buy something before the market closed; but then he thought twice. The redcoats might be hiding somewhere out of sight, just waiting for him to show his hand. He sighed wearily and sank down on the ground, hiding in a clump of undergrowth which was just a little more comfortable than the gap between the rocks, then waited for darkness to appear.

While he waited, he thought back to his childhood and the girl he had been so fond of. Norah Brown had been a cut above him, a merchant's daughter, and when she first started to play with the village children, she had been very shy.

However, she had been befriended by a few of the girls, and soon she became one of them. After that, she occasionally became ‘one of the boys', and joined in their riotous games. She did all the usual girlish things too, of course, like skipping ropes and playing with dolls, but she would always join in a game of ball, although she drew the line at wrestling!

It was Norah who had encouraged Tearlach to ride, since her father had a stable of ten horses, and he wanted her to cut an elegant figure on horseback. Even though a guard would always accompany her on their rides around the loch, she persuaded her father to allow Tearlach to come with them occasionally. She had let it slip that he might be looking for a position as a guard, since her father was always looking for new guards, and he was a big strong lad who would be very suitable for the job. Liam Brown had a high turnover of men, mostly because he did not pay them enough.

Tearlach had no intention of becoming a member of Liam Brown's staff, though, it was merely a way of spending an hour or two with Norah.

The thought of those days always made him smile, no matter what mood he was in. She had been beautiful at fifteen, but now, six years later, she must be absolutely stunning, and he wished with all his heart that he could see her again.

He had always cared about her, even though she was two years younger than he was, and he wondered how different his life would have been if he had stayed at home and not ran away to fight for his country. Could they have married? Probably not. He was not of her class, and her father had always been known for his snobbery, so they would have had to have done it in secret. An elopement was a wonderful daydream, but it would never become a reality. She would likely have forgotten about him by now.