Chapter 8

8

Gavin would probably never speak like the villagers, who all accused him of having a toffee-nosed accent and made fun of him about it. However, he took this in good part, since he knew that they had accepted him as one of their own. There had been a short period, while they decided whether to trust him or not, when there was some hesitation and wariness on both sides, but now Gavin was one of them, and he was loving it.

He often helped Maura tend to the children too, and cursed the fact that he could not get into his castle or access the wealth there to improve their lives and welfare. He did what he could, however; he was currently teaching the oldest boys and girls to read, write and count.

Gavin was often to be found sitting in one of the church pews holding one of the children in his lap as the others sat at his feet, reading them a story. There was a lot of competition for the seat on his lap, so he had been obliged to start a rota in order to accommodate them all.

He was of the opinion that it was not only their bodies that needed nourishment, but their brains too, and he was feeding them as well as he could. He had borrowed books from Maura’s precious little hoard and was making good use of them.

Maura came into the church with food one cold afternoon near Christmas, and heard a deep male voice reading a fairy tale to a rapt audience of eight children, who were hanging on his every word. There was absolute silence except for the sound of Gavin’s voice.

She sat down behind them to listen for a while, and realised that all of them absolutely adored him. Who could blame them? she thought, as she looked at the innocent little faces, then at Gavin’s. He looked at each of them in turn and adopted the voices of the characters in the story as he read it, and they were enthralled.

“And the prince said, ‘Princess Rose, will you marry me?’” he said, and looked around at his audience. “‘Yes, Prince Peter,’ the princess answered. ‘I will marry you.’ They were married by the Wise Old Owl who dwelt on the mountain and lived happily ever after.”

When he finished the story, he allowed himself to be hugged by every one of them. When he looked up and saw Maura, his expression brightened and then pointed to her.

“Look who is here!” he said, grinning. He was immediately abandoned as they all rushed over to her, but he was happy. He loved the look of joy on their faces, but felt ashamed that it was people like him who had allowed this situation to happen.

He knew that when they were not at the church, the orphans lived in an abandoned barn just outside the village, but it was infested with rodents, which was why Maura never fed them there. It was the best she could do for them at the moment, but she was actively trying to find somewhere else for them to live. Gavin swore that he would help her with the limited means he had at his disposal.

Since their kiss, Gavin has sensed a change in him. He was more light-hearted, and his easy-going manner endeared him not only to the ladies, but to the men of the village, too, who had embraced him as one of their own.

Gavin had impressed them with his skill with a slingshot by hitting targets on a tree, but had not ventured further than that. He had begun training with the weapon as a boy, and could hit and kill small animals like rabbits at a considerable distance.

This was not unusual for boys of any stratum of society, but swords and bows were weapons of the nobility. Although Gavin spoke with an upper-class accent and had often been teased about it, he had never experienced more than a healthy curiosity from the people of Carmalcolm. However, he had no wish to give them anything more to speculate about, so although he could have fashioned a bow with materials he had at hand, he never did so.

Now, as Gavin watched Maura doling out food to the orphans, he felt a warmth seeping throughhim that he had not been aware of before their kiss. For a few days afterwards, he had actively avoided her because he felt awkward and embarrassed in her presence. Whenever he walked past her or came close to her, he avoided her eyes, and their conversations were restricted to necessities and conducted in monosyllables.

After a while, their interactions had become a little less strained, but he was still unsure if they were merely friends. Perhaps the kiss had been caused by Maura’s unusual tipsiness; after all, he had smelled whisky on her breath, and she was clearly not used to drinking it.

Yes, he told himself, that must have been what happened. People often did strange things when they were drunk or half-drunk. He smiled as he thought of her piqued expression just seconds before that kiss. Maura was adorable in every way, he thought, and therein lay the problem.

He had toyed with the idea of simply staying where he was and pretending to be an ordinary villager, but that idea was impossible. He was too near his home in Duncairn to stay invisible for much longer. The story of the handsome man with the strange accent was bound to spread more, and Gavin knew he would not be safe for much longer.

He decided to go back to the tavern to have a wash in the stream that ran behind it. He had become accustomed to the water that was so cold it burned and froze him at the same time, so he was no longer scared of it. However, just as he was leaving the church, the town blacksmith, a little man called Brodie Johnstone, came up to him, grinning in his toothless fashion.

“Hey, big man!” he called. “Time tae catch some rabbits. Ye comin’?”

Gavin was a keen hunter. Not only could he outdo everyone else, but he was not greedy, and was happy to share his skills with others, which made him very popular. He took a slightly bigger share for himself and gave some to feed the orphans so that they had a good supply of meat.

One day, he had caught five and laid them out on the food preparation table, having already skinned them.

“For the orphans,” he had told Maura. “I have kept the skins, we can use them for other purposes. I’m sure you can think of something, Maura.”

When Maura saw his offering, she gasped and looked at him with wide eyes. “These will last for days,” she had said in wonder. “I cannae thank ye enough, Gavin!” She was about to give him a hug, then thought better of it—neither of them were yet sure of where they stood with each other. “I will make a big pot o’ stew. Oh, I cannae wait tae see their wee faces!”

Gavin's heart had swelled with joy as he looked at her shining face, and thereafter he had tried to hunt as many as he could. That way he would be able, at least a little, to make up for the casual cruelty he had practised in the past.

Now, as he stood looking at Brodie, he laughed. “I don’t have much time,” he told the little man. “But since you asked so politely…”

Brodie laughed. “Aye—because ye have tae tart yourself up for the ladies. Dinnae give me any excuses,” Then he dragged Gavin away by the sleeve of his jacket.

Maura watched him out of the corner of her eye. He was a very good man, but still such a mystery.

The next day was Sunday, and although the tavern was open, it was usually much quieter, since many people went to church that day. Gavin was usually off work for most of the day and took the opportunity to wash himself and his clothes, clean his room and air his bedclothes. If there was one thing he could not stand, it was being dirty.

Rain was threatening that day, but he decided that he would take the chance to go hunting anyway, although none of his friends were available to go with him. He felt restless and unable to sit still, and the situation with Maura was still causing him to feel awkward and uneasy.

He had planned to lie in bed with a book Maura had given him. However, when he tried to do so he found himself reading the same page over and over again, so he rose from bed and went through to the bar to pour himself some of his favourite beer.

Then he saw his sling lying on the chair beside his bed and abruptly changed his plans. There was always a need for more meat, and he could not bear to be idle for the whole day, so he decided to use his time constructively. He deliberately put aside the thought that he would be avoiding Maura at the same time.

It was still dry when he went outside, but within minutes the first drops of rain began to fall. The sky was becoming darker and darker, but Gavin did not even think about turning back. If he got wet, so be it. He had survived before.

Unfortunately, the birds and rabbits made themselves scarce that day, and after an hour of fruitless watching and waiting, Gavin decided to go back inside. The temperature was dropping and darkness was closing in; he would have to hurry back.

He had reached the edge of the clump of pine trees in which he was hiding when he heard a familiar voice. “Gavin!” it called.

Gavin turned at once and saw the last person he had expected to see. Crouching in the half-dark, under the branches of a pine tree. Archie, the Captain of the Guard, was watching him. “Good tae see ye, Gavin,” he said warmly as he moved forward to greet him.

Gavin rushed forward and tried to embrace him, but Archie pushed him away and looked around fearfully. “I need tae talk tae ye,” he said urgently. He was soaked to the skin and looked terrified.

“Archie, it’s so good to see you! I thought you were dead.” Gavin said in disbelief.

“Nae time tae talk here.” Archie’s voice was grim. “There is a wee ruined shepherd’s hut near here. Follow me.”

He plunged into the trees again until they came to what was left of the building. The stone walls were disintegrating, and what was left of the thatch on the roof had giant holes in it, but it was better than nothing, Gavin thought. They sat on a pile of straw in the corner, where there was enough roof left to shelter them from the downpour.

Archie began to talk quickly. “They nearly killed me,” he said grimly. “They gave me a good kickin’ an’ locked me up for a while, but I still have good friends at the castle who helped me escape. I dinnae know if anybody’s followin’ me.” He looked around him warily.

Gavin felt a bolt of rage shoot through him. Archie was a good man and did not deserve such treatment, and all because of his loyalty to the Forsyths. Gavin felt ashamed that he should have to go through this.

“How did you know I was here?” Gavin asked.

“I sent ye tae the village,” Archie replied. “The news that a tall, good-lookin’ well-spoken lad was workin’ at the Goose an’ Gander didnae take long tae spread. The elders spent a lot o’ time lookin’ for your corpse. They thought ye had jumped over the wall, but they couldnae find it, so they worked out that ye are still alive. They have been searchin for ye ever since. That is why we must be very careful.”

He paused for a moment, as if he was thinking carefully about what to say next, then he looked up, and the expression on his face frightened Gavin with its intensity.

“They are goin’ tae send out some men tae kill ye, Gavin, an’ I dinnae think ye will have tae wait long for them. Ye should get away as quick as ye can.”

Gavin was silent for a few moments. His thoughts had immediately flown to Maura. He had to warn her; they might assume that since she had employed him she knew a lot about him and kill her anyway, even if they could not prove it.

Moreover, he did not think that anyone who had succeeded in taking over his castle would have much trouble with Maura and the staff of her establishment. Yes, she was a strong, fierce and determined woman, but she was not made of iron.

“I think ye should go an’ see Laird Jamieson,” Archie urged, seeing Gavin’s hesitation. “He an’ your father were good pals, an’ there was even talk o’ his daughter, Elspeth, an’ you gettin’ married at one time, was there no’?”

“Yes, there was.” Gavin sighed.

He had met the young lady several times and had been quite impressed with her. She was good-humoured, intelligent and passably attractive, but there was nothing very remarkable about her. Compared to Maura, she was dull in the extreme, but if it came to the choice of marrying her or letting Maura die, he knew what he had to do.

“Ye dinnae look too happy about it,” Archie remarked, frowning.

Gavin sighed. “Nobody likes asking for favours, Archie,” he replied. “And this favour is bigger than most. We have no official agreement with the Jamiesons, and asking them for help seems rather disrespectful. I will have to think about this.” He changed the subject abruptly. “Where are you staying, Archie?”

“Dinnae worry about me,” Archie said soothingly. “I have plenty o’ pals here, an’ I move around between them. If things werenae sae serious, I would say it was quite good fun.”

Gavin looked at him doubtfully. He and Archie had always shared the same kind of wicked sense of humour, and were able to see the funny side of just about anything. They had always played pranks together. However, now he knew that Archie’s situation was rather more desperate than he was admitting to. Like Gavin himself, Archie had to keep his head down; he was probably taking a great risk in coming to the village at all.

“I would offer to let you stay at the inn,” he said sadly, “but this is not my property, so it’s not my place to do so.”

“I wouldnae let ye put yourself in such danger.” Archie patted his shoulder and smiled. “But if they suspect that you are here, then they know that I will follow ye, an’ I am more use tae all o’ us alive. I have already spoken tae many people that would fight on our side out o’ loyalty tae your father.”

“But not loyalty to me,” Gavin said bitterly. “I cannot blame them, Archie. I have been a terrible Laird, and treated so many of our people with utter contempt. I deserve whatever punishment they give me.”

“Stop feelin’ sae sorry for yourself,” Archie snapped. He had just spoken to Gavin in a way he had never done before, with a complete lack of respect.

Gavin’s first instinct was to put him in his place before he realised that the man was right. Archie was risking his life for him, and all Gavin was doing was bemoaning his fate and considering giving up.

“Archie, I am so sorry,” he said. “I am only thinking of myself. I will do as you suggest.”

“Good man.” Archie nodded. “But I dinnae know when they will come for ye, so make it quick, Gavin.” He looked extremely worried, and it struck Gavin suddenly how much he had taken their friendship for granted.

“I don’t deserve a friend like you,” he said, smiling. “And no—I am not feeling sorry for myself. I just consider myself very lucky. Thank you, Archie.”

For the first time that night, Archie smiled. He stood up and patted Gavin’s shoulder. “Ye have changed, Gavin,” he observed. “Back tae the man I used tae know, the one I liked an’ respected. Well done, pal.” He put on his cloak, which was still dripping wet, then patted Gavin on the shoulder.

“Where will you go?” Gavin asked anxiously.

“Best ye dinnae know,” Archie replied. “Look after yourself.”

“I will,” Gavin replied. “Thank you, Archie. Look after yourself and stay safe.”

Archie hugged him briefly and smiled, then he was gone. Gavin looked after him sorrowfully, hoping that he would see his friend again.