Cat's Cradle (20 page)

He flushed and glanced sideways at Bridgit. I already suspected that he nurtured tender feelings for my companion despite her being several years his senior. But he would have to cure himself of his admiration for Bridgit: I had other plans for her, God – or should I say, Syd – willing.

Jamie adjusted the woollen scarf dangling around his neck. ‘Perhaps it was a wee bit o' reese – but it's the truth,' he said defensively.

I turned my head to hide my amusement. Buttery-lippit – that's what they called a flatterer round these parts, but Jamie would never find the role easy as he was as sharp-tongued as me
in his own way and a touch clumsy with his compliments.

‘Jamie, do you remember a little boy called Rabbie Bruce, kin to the Moirs?' Bridgit asked, deftly changing the subject.

Jamie searched the crowd at the graveside. ‘Aye, Ian and Dougie's cousin. Did he come then? That was brave o' him.'

Bridgit shook her head, tugging him further away from any listeners. ‘No, we don't think he was here. But we need to find him.'

Jamie frowned. ‘Why do you want him? He's gone wild – a briganer skulking out at the tower house with a pack o' Bruces. He's set to be one o' the worst when he's full-grown. I'd say ye best stay away from the likes o' Rabbie Bruce.'

We had reached the same spot where the three of us had looked down on the mill on that first day. The funeral party unfurled down the path like a spool of black ribbon, heading for the cottage where a wake was to be held. I'd promised Jeannie I would be there but I could not face it just at the moment. I let go of Jamie's arm and leaned on the
top bar of a fence, rubbing away a headache. It would not be breaking my word to confide in someone outside the family, I decided.

‘I'm afraid we can't leave Rabbie Bruce alone, Jamie,' I said. ‘Mrs Moir told me just before she died that he's my brother.'

To my surprise, Jamie's reaction to my earth-shattering revelation was to chuckle. ‘Nae, lass. That canna be true. Ye're a Sassenach; Rabbie's a Scot.'

I sighed. ‘All the same, we had the same mother.'

Jamie took his glasses out of his pocket and pinched them to the end of his nose to get a clear view of my face. He looked the earnest scholar in this pose. ‘Is this a jest?'

‘No. I have a brother.' I then proceeded to tell him the reason for my journey north, my last conversation with Mrs Moir and my promise.

‘That isna fair,' Jamie announced when I'd finished. ‘I have nae wish to speak ill of the dead, but she had a heart as hard as three-inch ice in the well bucket.'

‘But still, I gave my word.'

Jamie was thinking fast. ‘Aye, but the Moirs ken that Rabbie is their kin. If ye bring him back and he says ye are his sister then all will be out and ye'll nae have to break yer promise.'

I'd been thinking this myself but couldn't help wondering if it was breaking the spirit, if not the letter, of my oath to Mrs Moir.

‘Nae, Catherine, dinna look at me like that: Ian and Dougie will be glad to find out that ye are kin, wee Jeannie too. They wouldna forgive me if I kept it from them and let ye slink off back to London.'

I hadn't thought of that. Was it possible that, if they ever found out, my cousins would feel cheated if I left without telling them? Would they want to know me as much as I wanted to know them?

Decision made, I tapped the fence like an auctioneer closing the bidding. ‘Whatever I do about the Moirs, I think my next step is clear. I must find my brother.'

‘Aye, ye must, but it willna be so easy,' Jamie replied sagely – an annoying stance seeing how he
had just been encouraging me to make myself known to Rabbie. ‘Ye canna go to the tower house and demand to see him. They dinna take to strange folk. And think what yer brother will make o' ye, a Sassenach lass claiming to be his long-lost sister. If I remember one thing about Rabbie, it's his ill temper. I doubt he'll take kindly to the news.'

I took a deep, steadying breath, determined not to be put off. ‘So I have a crosspatch of a brother locked in a tower with a bunch of bandits? That sounds like the sort of quest to appeal to a brave-hearted sister. I'll just pack my bag and you can point me in the right direction.'

‘Wheest, lass, ye are nae listening! Ye canna do that and think to come back in one piece.' He took my shoulder and actually gave me a shake. ‘The Bruce clan are raucle, ill-likit and kittle –'

I held up a hand. ‘Stop! Translation, please.'

Jamie scrubbed his hand through his hair in frustration.

‘I think he means they are ill-mannered ruffians who would as soon slit your throat as speak to you,' offered Bridgit mildly.

Jamie nodded his thanks. ‘Aye, that's it. Ye would be daft to seek them out by yerself.'

He clearly hadn't heard the bit about me being determined to go. He had no idea what a brother meant to someone without family – it was everything to me.

I crossed my arms stubbornly. ‘I've proved I'm not hen-hertit once and I'll show you again.'

‘But, Catherine, this isna a walk to the Linn we're talking about – ye take yer life in yer hands when ye tangle wi' the Bruces.'

‘Strangely enough, Jamie, I think I understood that,' I said sarcastically. ‘But that changes nothing.'

He groaned. ‘Aye, it does.'

‘How so?'

‘It means I have to go wi' ye and keep the pair o' ye alive.'

With no reason to delay, we left the next morning. Being a Sunday, we were the first up and about so very few people saw us head out of the valley. My goodbyes had already been said. Martha rejoiced to have her bed back; Annie wished me well. I'd
already told the Moirs at the wake that Bridgit and I were off to find work in Glasgow. Jeannie had cried in my arms, distressed that she was losing a friend so soon after the death of her mother, but I couldn't find it in my heart to promise her that I'd be back when I wasn't certain of it. And I hoped I could soon reveal myself to her as something rather better than a mere friend. I did give her a very unneighbourly hug – a real squeeze – hoping that she could sense more than I could say.

Dougie, Katrine and Ian were still too stunned by grief to pay much attention to our departure, though Ian did tease Jamie a little for agreeing to set us on our way. None of them thought it strange that we were to walk to Glasgow as it was a well-travelled road. With all the cotton wagons passing to and fro from the port, there would be plenty of opportunities to beg a ride.

But, Reader, we had no intention of going that far; our destination was nowhere so civilized. We were heading into bandit country.

On Jamie's advice we carried only a small bundle each, strapped to our backs to leave our
arms free for the rough terrain. Following his lead, we did not stay on the Glasgow road but struck off north-east up a track that was little more than a muddy trail. We climbed a steep wooded slope, pulling ourselves up by root and limb, until we emerged on to moorland. I stood still to regain my breath, marvelling at the view spread out before me. An icy wind cut through my thick shawl and pelisse and I tucked my hands under my arms to keep them warm. In the distance, I could see the faint outline of dark blue hills capped with white – the beginning of the true highlands, according to Jamie, many miles away. Here in the lowlands the countryside looked much kinder – a network of rivers hidden in wooded valleys, open hilltops where sheep grazed, villages and farms. It was amazing to think that the largest manufactory in the country, if not the world, was just a few miles behind us. Step away from the Clyde valley and it was as if New Lanark did not exist and the old country life carried on undisturbed. I was already missing the clatter of the looms that had become a comforting noise to me, like the rumble of traffic
in London. I'd never been entirely at ease in the quiet of the countryside.

A sheep bleated on our left, setting off the whole herd as they ran for no apparent reason across our path, little hooves thudding on the ground. Not that quiet really, I thought with a smile.

‘How far is the Bruce place, Jamie?' I asked as we strode along the track, weaving our way between clumps of dead bracken that were the colour of cinnamon. A sugar-coating of light snow lay in drifts on the higher ground, making a stunning contrast to the iron-grey satin of the sky. The hint of sweetness was misleading: this was a poor man's landscape, a treacherous place where the bones of the earth showed through the thin skin of grass.

‘The tower house is some ten miles from Lanark, in a wee valley, very hard to approach wi'out the Bruce lads being aware o' ye.'

I hopped over an ice-crusted puddle. ‘But we don't want to creep up on them, surely? I want to meet my brother, not kidnap him.'

Jamie stopped to take a stone out of his boot.
‘Ye didna listen to a word I said, did ye, Catherine?'

Bridgit sat down on a rock and folded her hands patiently in her lap, anticipating another of our spats.

‘I did too,' I protested.

About to begin his lecture, Jamie waved to the north. ‘The Bruce clan are hard-handed reivers – or thieves as ye would say.' He gestured to me. ‘Catherine, a soft-headed Sassenach. Put the two together and what do ye get? Trouble and an empty purse. They'll take every last thing ye have on ye. Ye'll be lucky to get away wi' yer life. Is that clear enough for ye?'

I folded my arms, standing apart from my two companions on the far side of the puddle. ‘Yes, yes, I heard all that when you told me yesterday. I didn't ask you to come with me, remember.'

‘And what about her?' Jamie nodded at Bridgit.

‘She doesn't have to come either. It's my brother, my risk.'

Bridgit shook her head. ‘I can't believe the Bruces would be worse than my brothers, Cat, and you faced them all for my sake.'

Jamie rolled his eyes. ‘No another soft-headed lass! I was counting on ye to make yer friend see sense before it's too late. These are reivers – I canna believe yer brothers are anything like them.'

Bridgit gave a hollow laugh.

‘So why did you come with us if you only wanted to turn me back?' I asked.

Jamie scuffed his boot in the dirt. ‘Rabbie willna take so badly to me. He'll remember me from his time in New Lanark. I thought I could go and get him for ye.'

Words failed me for a moment. Jamie Kelly was planning on playing hero.

‘I can't allow you to do that, Jamie,' I said finally. ‘If anyone goes in alone, it will be me.'

Bridgit stood up and brushed down the seat of her skirt. ‘No one is doing anything on their own. We'll go together or not at all.' Her authoritative tone announced that she was the eldest there and had decided to assume command. As I looked around our little circle, it was apparent that we had three officers and no foot soldiers. The thought made me laugh.

‘What's so funny?' snapped Jamie, still on edge.

‘I was just thinking that in our army we need some more followers.'

Bridgit smiled, but she showed no signs of backing down. ‘Cat, Jamie, why don't we just go forward and see what happens? We don't need to decide now.'

‘We canna put it off much longer. We'll be entering Bruce land soon,' grumbled Jamie.

‘Then let us think of a plan while we walk.' Bridgit looked to the north. ‘This way, is it?'

‘Aye.' Jamie surveyed the looming clouds ahead. ‘And from that dreich sky, I can tell ye that snow is on its merry way.' He tapped his forehead. ‘I must be daft to be out here wi' ye.'

‘If you can tell us where we need to go, you can still head back and be home in time for dinner and before the storm hits,' I called over my shoulder.

‘Ye canna get rid of me so easily, Snippie!' he shouted back, leaping the puddle.

Even from our distant vantage point, I could see that the Bruce tower house was every bit as
difficult to approach as Jamie said. It was getting dark but there was just enough light to see the old building crouched midway down the valley on a flat-topped hillock by the river. At least five storeys tall, the house looked like a little grey castle keep, with walls that promised to be several feet thick. The pitched roof was protected by square-cut battlements like a fancy brim on a pointy hat. From the number of missing slates it appeared that the tower itself was in poor repair, but someone had been tending the land around. There were signs of a vegetable garden dug into the flat ground in front of the main door, and the trees had been cleared to give the inhabitants an unobstructed view in all directions. I felt very disheartened by the prospect. They just do not build them like that any more – at least not where I come from. This was the kind of home meant to deter Viking invaders or provide protection from wolves, not something that belonged to our modern age.

‘Er, Jamie, I don't suppose there are wolves around here?' I asked in a whisper, glancing fearfully over my shoulder.

‘Nae, none that I've heard,' he replied carelessly.

Good. One less worry.

Bridgit touched my arm lightly. ‘Time for us to put our plan into action.'

‘Yes.' I dug out of my bag a piece of paper, a quill and the little bottle of ink I always carried with me. ‘I need somewhere flat to write.'

Jamie gallantly offered his back. A snowflake fell on the page, leaving a damp smudge. Bridgit held the ink while I scrawled the note, briefly announcing my aunt's death and the fact that the bearer could take Rabbie Bruce to someone who had something of value for him: a bequest from his aunt.

Well, it wasn't really a lie, was it, Reader? My aunt had left me the knowledge of our kinship; I hoped my brother would value it.

‘There.' Before I could think better of it, I folded the letter and handed it to Jamie. He had finally persuaded us that he should make the first approach in the guise of messenger boy. Hopefully, the Bruces would think him of no account and
leave him alone. ‘My brother did go to the mill school while he was with the Moirs, didn't he?'