Cat's Cradle (27 page)

‘Yes. It took me a while to find him but that's my brother.'

The doctor began packing his equipment away. ‘And ye need to contact yer friends?'

‘Yes, sir. The dominie in the mill school and Mr Dale can vouch for me. I'm no thief.'

‘But yer brother –'

‘– Is only twelve,' I stated firmly. ‘If we get out of here, I'll make sure he doesn't get into trouble again.' I shot a look at Rabbie, who was listening carefully to our exchange. ‘I promise.'

‘I need no one else to vouch for ye, lass. Ye showed yer kind heart nursing that family. Who do ye want me to speak to?'

Yes! My spirit did a little victory caper. Here
come the cavalry, Sir Charles – you'd better take cover!

‘Bridgit O'Riley. She will probably be staying with Mistress MacDonald.'

‘Aye, I ken the lady. I'll call in on my way home. Good day to ye.'

When he left, I let out a whoop of joy. Rabbie looked at me as if I had cracked.

‘What's got into ye, ye daftie?'

I threw one arm wide. ‘Rejoice with me, Rabbie the Bruce – we are going to beat the sheriff. The merry men are coming!'

‘What are ye blethering about?' He couldn't help but smile.

‘Just you wait and see.'

The week of incarceration passed almost pleasantly, apart from the inevitable niggles of being in close quarters with someone for too long. I'd wished for a chance to get to know my brother and now we had nothing else to do but talk and amuse ourselves. In addition to his life history, I discovered that he could cheat at cards (thanks to a
pack begged off the hook-nosed footman), couldn't carry a tune and had smelly feet. I found the last point rather comforting as I felt it was exactly the kind of thing one should know about one's brother. He heard the tales of my travels, admired my singing, told me I was useless at
vingt-et-un
and laughed at my attempts to persuade him that ballet was a superior form of dance. After he almost split his sides when I performed one-armed my piece from the Paris Opera, I admitted grumpily that you had to be there to understand.
*

The day of the court hearing finally arrived. As we prepared for our appearance, I wished I had some clean clothes to make a decent impression. I'd been washing out our clothes piece by piece with the soap and water we were allowed, but still we could do with a good bath and complete change. After protesting at my fussy ways, Rabbie had submitted to me removing a layer or two of grime from his person. I told myself that he secretly approved and was just objecting as a point
of honour. On the other hand, perhaps I had worn him down so that he had decided giving in was preferable to the torment of my nagging.

We were taken in a closed carriage to the courthouse in Lanark, the sheriff doubtless fearing that we would slip away otherwise. Rabbie had been shackled, but in deference to my injury and lesser charge, I was left free.

‘Ye are certain yer friends will be there?' Rabbie kept asking, nibbling on a hangnail.

‘Yes, I am,' I replied.

‘How can ye be so very sure?'

‘You'll find that out when you meet them. You couldn't ask for better, more loyal friends. We've been through so much together.'

I kept from him my worry that just perhaps Dr Gordon had failed to find Bridgit. But no, I wouldn't go down that path. If the doctor had let us down, my brother might find himself facing a trial for his life and I'd promised him that wouldn't happen. I had to have faith.

We were taken round the back of the grey stone courthouse and led into a cheerless room to
wait. I could hear a murmur of voices from the front of the building and wondered if it was market day. Intrigued by the unexpectedly lively atmosphere, I asked the man left behind to guard us what the cause was.

‘They've come to see a Bruce finally get what's coming to him,' he replied, giving Rabbie an unfriendly grin. ‘Long overdue to my mind.'

I seethed. The jolterhead.

Swallowing my anger but promising myself we'd get even, I turned my back on our guard and cudgelled my brains to think through the new problem. I had not considered what the locals might make of our trial. It would put a dent in my plans for a triumphant acquittal if the sheriff felt he had to bow to public pressure for justice. But how to make an obviously guilty boy come out smelling of roses?

‘The court is ready for ye now,' announced an usher, appearing at the door. He escorted us to a door leading to a set of wooden steps. My stomach twisted with a feeling uncannily like stage fright. Rabbie grappled for my hand and
held on tightly. I took a steadying breath.

‘It will be all right, you'll see,' I reassured him.

We climbed the short flight of stairs and emerged out into the dock in the courtroom itself. A buzz of excitement hummed around the chamber on our appearance, drowning out individual voices. With our backs to the public gallery, all I could see at first was the sheriff sitting in his raised chair and a flock of black-clad officials flapping round the court like scavenger crows on a battlefield. I twisted to look behind but two attendants flanked us, hemming me in. Had I misjudged things so badly? Perhaps my friends had not had time to come – the message had gone astray – they'd been powerless to intervene. The possibilities flashed through my mind. I'd become used to relying on my adopted family of Syd and Frank; maybe this was one time when they would not be able to help me out of the fix in which I found myself.

A court official began to read through the preliminaries, asking us to confirm our names and relationship.

‘Ye claim that ye are Rabbie Bruce's half-sister?' one of the crows asked.

‘Yes, sir. We had the same mother.'

‘But ye were born out of wedlock?'

I hadn't anticipated this. Knowing how sensitive Rabbie was about our mother's good name, he now had to listen to it being dragged through the mud before the citizens of Lanark. He squeezed my hand a bit too tight for comfort, but I had no recourse but to tell the truth. At least I could make it clear that my brother had no such stain on his name.

‘Yes, sir. I was born before she married Rabbie's father.'

‘And how do ye ken this?'

‘I was told the facts recently by my aunt, Mrs Mary Moir of Long Row, New Lanark.'

‘Mrs Moir being the sister of your mother?'

‘That is the usual requirement for an aunt, I believe.'

There was a titter of laughter from the gallery. I was growing quietly more and more frantic. Surely if my friends were here by now they would
have let me know their presence?

‘So ye are related to the Bruces by the marriage of your mother?' the crow continued.

I frowned. I'd not thought of it that way. ‘I suppose you could say that.'

‘So your testimony on behalf of yer brother is likely to be prejudiced?'

Of course it was.

‘No!' I lied.

The crow turned to the sheriff. ‘The matter before the court is simple, yer honour. Rabbie Bruce is charged with involvement in the theft of twenty head of cattle from the farm of Lady Ross-Baillie. His sister is charged with being an accessory to the crime and trespass on the same Lady Ross-Baillie's land, no doubt for the purpose of scouting the lie of the land in advance of the actual theft.'

‘What? That's a fib!' I couldn't believe it! They'd twisted my most innocent actions to fit their idea of what a Bruce would be up to.

Sir Charles gave me a reproving stare. ‘Contain yourself, Miss Royal, or I will have you removed from the courtroom.'

Rabbie looked across at me, his face ashen. ‘I dinna think it's going well,' he whispered.

‘Don't worry,' I said with more bravado than conviction, ‘my friends will come through for us.'

‘I canna see them; can ye?'

‘No conferring in the dock!' barked Sir Charles.

The guard shoved us apart.

‘Now to the charges,' Sir Charles continued sternly. ‘Call the first witness.'

*
If you wish to be there, Reader, I refer you to
Den of Thieves
.

‘I call on Mister Archibald Brown to take his place in the witness box,' announced the sheriff.

As the ghillie stepped up to take his oath, there was a noise outside the courtroom.

‘There's nae room!' I heard an official bellow. ‘Go back to where ye came from.'

Sir Charles halted proceedings and gave a nod to a man to find out what was happening. When he opened the door, the exchange outside came through to the courtroom loud and clear.

‘Ye canna keep us out: our cousins are in there!'

With a thrill of joy, I recognized Ian Moir's voice raised in anger. Cousins – not cousin. So they knew about me too!

‘My man, I think ye should reconsider the wisdom of barring me from the court,' a second voice suggested pleasantly.

‘Mr Dale, I didna see ye there,' blustered the official. ‘O' course, sir, step in and welcome.'

‘With my people as well.'

‘But there's nae room in the gallery, sir. I didna lie about that.'

‘Then we'll take the seats at the back of court kept for the town officials. There is always room down there.'

Before anyone could stop him, Mr Dale entered, followed by a string of familiar faces from the mill: the Moirs from the father down to little Jeannie, the dominie, Mistress MacDonald, my dormitory companion Annie, the good doctor and the overseer. Bringing up the rear were Jamie and Bridgit. Catching sight of my anxious face, Jamie waved and Bridgit gave me a reassuring smile.

Sir Charles stood up, forcing everyone else in the room to rise. ‘Mr Dale, what an unexpected pleasure,' he said awkwardly, giving the factory owner a bow.

Mr Dale continued down the aisle to the front. ‘Sir Charles, I'd like to offer myself as a character witness for the two young people you have on trial.'

‘That is very kind of you – quite unnecessary though as the evidence is very clear.' The sheriff
bent lower and dropped his voice. ‘Surely you know the Bruces, sir?'

‘Aye, that I do. But I know the girl has nothing to do with them. Under my employ she proved herself a good worker and a fine teacher, both of letters and the scriptures.'

Sir Charles could not contain a disbelieving snort.

‘She isn't the kind of lass who'd get mixed up in reiving,' continued Mr Dale. ‘I fear you are labouring under a serious misapprehension.'

‘Me, sir?' The sheriff clearly thought Mr Dale had taken leave of his senses.

‘Aye. She came to Scotland with the worthy purpose of tracing her family and it looks to me as if she has achieved it.' Mr Dale gave a nod to Rabbie.

‘But she was found trespassing on Lady Ross-Baillie's land,' Sir Charles countered.

‘Like half of my workers do, I suppose you mean?' chuckled Mr Dale. ‘I understand from those she was with that she went on the Sabbath to see one of God's wonders, Corra Linn – hardly a
hanging offence. I have suggested to Lady Ross-Baillie on numerous occasions that it is a sin to stop the minds of common people being opened and improved by viewing the mysteries of our Creator. She lets the rich gentry see the Linn, so why not those who, I would argue, need it more: the poor at her very gate?'

There was a sharp gasp of outrage from Sir Charles's right. I noticed for the first time that Lady Ross-Baillie herself was present, tucked discreetly in a corner under the gallery so as to be out of sight of vulgar eyes.

‘This is hardly the place to debate property rights,' grumbled Sir Charles. He waved to the man taking note of proceedings. ‘Please note Mr Dale's name as a character witness.' He turned back to the factory owner. ‘Could I trouble you to take a seat?'

‘Only when you've added the names of Dominie Blair, Mistress MacDonald and Overseer Shaw,' Mr Dale said evenly.

Sir Charles gave a jerky nod, as if the gesture ruptured something in his neck, and Mr Dale
turned to take a seat, giving me a ghost of a wink as he did so.

‘Now, back to our first witness,' announced Sir Charles, his feathers ruffled. With Mr Dale present, he was no longer undisputed cock of the walk. ‘Mr Brown, please tell the court –'

He got no further for there was a renewed commotion outside the door.

‘What now?' he groaned.

‘Get out of the road! We've not come all this way to 'ave a runty Scot stop us goin' where we want.'

‘But you canna –' squeaked the official.

‘We
canna
what?' Syd Fletcher asked menacingly. I could just picture him looming over the poor man, backing him up against the door.

‘Er, go on in, sir.'

Syd threw the doors open with a crash and strode into the court, taking charge as if it were a tavern in Covent Garden. At his back were Nick and Joe looking suitably threatening as officials moved to intercept them then thought better of it.