Chapter 7

They watched as she leaned on the back of a chair, taking in great gulps of air, tears caused by the strong wind streaming down her face. When she had finally regained her breath she looked up straight into Tearlach's green eyes and realized that she could not lose him again. This man was everything to her, and even if she had to kill for him, so be it. She was still furious with him, but she knew she would forgive him. Nothing was going to separate them this time.

She had last seen him when he was a youth and she was a barely developed young woman, as yet without breasts. She had loved him then, but now that he was a man, everything that she had felt for him then had come back tenfold. This was not the infatuation of a dreamy young girl, and the man staring back at her was not the boy who had run away with fantasies of grandeur and glory.

Moreover, this was not a game played with wooden swords and catapults, but a matter of life and death, since the weapons of the enemy would be sharp and deadly. Neither the redcoats nor their enemies, the armies of Scotland, had any compassion; they could not afford to be merciful. Depending on the circumstances, anyone who rebelled against the crown would be taken back to be tried or summarily executed on the spot.

"The redcoats have found your horse, Tearlach," she gasped. "They are going from door to door to see if anyone is hiding you, and there is a ten pound reward if anyone has information that leads to your capture." Ten pounds did not sound like much, but it was a fortune for most poor people, and could keep their families fed for a long while.

"How do they know it is my horse?" he asked, puzzled. "It could be anyone's."

"Never mind the horse!" Norah growled. "We can worry about him later."

"That is what you said last time - and look what happened!" he cried. "I have lost him - my best friend in the whole world!"

"Keep your voice down!" Norah hissed. "This horse is a chestnut stallion who answers to the name of Rory, and he has a reputation for being the fastest mount of all the rebel horses. They know he is yours, Tearlach. If he was an ordinary horse I am sure the redcoats would just have stolen him and moved on, but now that they have found him they know you are around here somewhere."

She looked at Caitrin. "Is there anywhere we can hide him?"

The old woman frowned, and led them to a cupboard next to the fireplace where she kept her blankets. "It is not very big, but if ye squeeze in as tight as ye can then I think ye should be able to get in," she said doubtfully.

Tearlach nodded, then climbed into the tiny space. He drew his knees up to his chin and wrapped his arms around his legs. The space was not big enough for him to straighten his neck, so he was obliged to push his face down onto his knees. He felt as though he had been tied in a very tight knot.

"We will try to see them off as quickly as possible," Norah whispered as she shut the door of the cupboard. She pushed a chair in front of its door so that one of them could sit in it and make the cupboard very hard to see. The redcoats would have to work very hard if they wanted to find anything in Caitrin's house.

At once, instant blackness descended on Tearlach. He was cramped, blind, and every joint in his body ached. He was more miserable than he had ever been in his life, but it would only be for a few minutes, would it not? He closed his eyes and tried to think of pleasant things, like the first time he had seen Norah again after six years.

She had turned into the kind of spectacular woman he had always known she could become, but the reality far surpassed his imaginings. She was quite simply magnificent, and now he would go to any lengths so make her his. He only hoped she felt the same way about him, but at the present moment all he wanted to do was avoid the redcoats and survive.

He tried listening for any sounds that would give him a clue as to what was going on, but all he heard was the thud of his own heartbeat. It was much faster than usual, but then he was terrified out of his wits. Then he heard the deep rumble of men's voices, but they did not seem to be advancing any closer to him. For the first time in a very long while, he began to pray.

Norah looked around the cottage to make sure that nothing was out of place, then she and Caitrin sat down and took out their knitting. They were making hats for all the children in the village, to be given out in the autumn when temperatures began their yearly descent into winter. Caitrin did the same thing every year, since wool was abundant due to the many flocks of sheep in the area.

One of the first questions that Caitrin had asked Norah before she came to live with her was, "Can ye knit, hen?"

"Yes, I can, Caitrin. Why?" She had looked very puzzled.

When Caitrin had explained the work that needed to be done before winter she clapped her hands. "I love being busy!" she told her friend, and Caitrin had smiled in satisfaction. Norah was infinitely glad, because she wanted to earn her keep, and this was one small way she could begin to do it. Now, that seemed like a lifetime ago.

"How many of them redcoats are there?" Caitrin asked in a low murmur as she looked at Norah. "Dozens?"

"Only three so far," Norah answered quietly. "But they might have sent for more. Caitrin, when they come here, I think you should pretend to be a little… senile. You know, absentminded in the way some older people become." Then she went on in a rush, in case she was misunderstood. "I know you are not senile, but can you act that way for a wee while?"

Caitrin chuckled. "I think I can, hen. I dinnae know why, but I will do as ye say."

"You must pretend to be very angry too," Norah told her. "It's part of the act."

Caitrin raised her eyebrows. "Angry? Wi' redcoats?" she gave a bitter laugh. "Nae need to pretend that, Norah! I am always angry wi' redcoats!"

The words were hardly out of her mouth when a sudden loud rapping sounded at the door. The person outside obviously meant business, because the door shuddered and rattled on its hinges with every blow. Norah damped down the fire of indignation that sprang up inside her, wondering how she was going to survive the next few minutes without losing her temper.

Caitrin leapt out of her chair and wrenched the door open, brandishing her knitting like a weapon in the air. One of the men had to jump back to avoid a serious casualty caused by a knitting needle in the eye. "What dae ye want?" she yelled. "Disturbin' a poor old woman like me?"

Each of the two men who were standing on the other side of the door could have made two of her, but the old woman stood her ground while they both took a step backwards.

"Well?" Caitrin demanded. "Tell me what ye want before I chase ye away!" She grabbed a broomstick from beside the door and brandished it at them fiercely, glaring at them from under her eyebrows.

Just then, Norah came up behind her and put a hand gently on each of her shoulders. "Auntie, go and sit down and do your knitting. I will speak to these men. They are not going to be here for long." She gave them a meaningful look that said, ‘humor her, please.'

Caitrin gave the soldiers a venomous glance then turned and sat down, muttering something about disturbing poor old ladies and not giving her any peace.

The redcoats were two ordinary young men, not tall, not short and both in their twenties. At first they looked as though they would have liked to be a hundred miles away. However, as they looked at Norah, their gazes became openly admiring.

"Forgive my auntie." Norah leaned forward and whispered, "she is getting old and does not like to be interrupted when she is knitting. It is the one thing that she remembers how to do." She tapped the side of her forehead. "She is becoming a little forgetful and it frustrates her."

One of the young officers smiled at her sympathetically. "I know what it's like. My grandma is the same."

Norah gifted him a dazzling smile. "Thank you for your understanding. It's very hard to live with sometimes. Now, what can I do for you?"

"We had heard that a wanted man is hiding in the village," the other redcoat explained. "We need to come into your house and have a look to make sure you are not hiding him. Everyone is under suspicion until we find him."

Norah shrugged. "You can come and search if you wish, but there is hardly enough space in here for my auntie and me. I doubt if a man could hide in here unless he was the size of a cat."

While she was speaking, Norah was trying not to tremble with fear. She hoped the men could not hear the thudding of her heartbeat, since it sounded as loud as a drum to her ears. She knew it was a ridiculous thought, but although she was acting with the purest of motives, she was sure that there was guilt written all over her face.

The redcoats looked a little awkward, as if they felt out of place, and after a quick and somewhat less than thorough look around, they took their leave.

One of them paused at the door to address Norah. "This man is dangerous, so if you see him, for your own safety, you must let us know. As well as that, the law will come down hard on you if you are found to be hiding him."

If he was trying to strike even more fear into her heart, he was succeeding, Norah thought. Yet, as well as that, there was an inferno of anger which she kept in check by a tremendous act of will. Instead, she gave him another bright, false smile.

"If I come across him, you will be the first to know, I promise," she replied. "I have to protect my auntie. As you can see she is a frail old lady, and I am all she has. I don't want both of us to be murdered in our beds."

"Thank you," the young man nodded, lifted his hat to her, and the two men left.

Norah was boiling with rage, but took no time to give vent to it. Instead, she rushed to the small cupboard into which they had squeezed Tearlach.