Pah! Ah well, sooner or later we’ll catch him – him and anyone foolish enough to succour him.”
“Not my husband,” Alex said.
“No? That’s not what we hear. He served in the wars, did he not? As a soldier of parliament.”
Alex shrugged, succeeding in looking disinterested. “I met him seven years ago, a royalist escaping from gaol.”
The captain blinked. “A royalist?”
“Convicted at the court in Ayr,” she nodded. There was no need to tell him the trial had been a farce. Matthew had been falsely accused by his brother, convicted based on his brother’s testimony, when all the while it was Luke, not Matthew, who was the diehard royalist.
The dragoons came back, shaking their heads. After a tense half-hour or so, the two sent off to inspect the mill returned, empty-handed. Alex’ shoulders dropped an inch.
“We’ll be back,” the officer said as he turned his horse. “Please convey my regards to your husband.” It came out with quite the edge.
“I’ll be sure to.” Alex curtsied and stood still until the last of the horse rumps dipped out of sight.
No sooner were they gone than she was hurrying up the hill. She met Mark making his way back down and gave him a hug.
“Are you okay?” Her son was rosy with excitement, squirming in her arms.
“We went out the back way,” he said, “just as the soldiers rode up to the door.”
“Oh.” Alex clutched him to her.
“Mama!” He pushed at her. “He’s at the oak, hiding.”
As far as Alex was concerned, Sandy could bloody well stay there, but with a sigh she rose to her feet.
“We’d best go and tell him it’s safe.”
Mark made as if to rush off, but Alex took his hand.
“I’ll come with you, okay?”
The hiding place was ingenious. Apart from Matthew, only Alex and Mark knew of its existence. While Alex was uncomfortable with lumbering her son with this kind of information, Matthew shrugged, saying that Mark had to be taught to run and warn – as he had done today.
Alex trudged after Mark down to where the millrun re-joined the river, walking along the water’s edge until they reached a point opposite the old oak that hung precariously over the eroded river bank. The water was unpleasantly cold but shallow as they waded across. The platform was barely visible from below, even now in late October with the leaves more or less gone. At Mark’s whistle a tousled head appeared, reappearing some minutes later on the ground.
Sandy Peden took off his mask and wig and rubbed his fingers through his thinning hair.
“They’re gone,” Alex said, meeting calm grey eyes. “So you can relax and go back to the room at the mill.” Why not read up a bit more on the Bible, or pack your stuff together and go somewhere else altogether?
Sandy seemed to see what she was thinking, and scratched at his chest.
“Nay, I’ll be leaving.” He inclined his head in the direction of the moss. “A wee bit too close this time.” He did look rather shaken, hands smoothing at his coat. “You’ve been most kind, Alexandra, but I don’t want to overstay my welcome.” His eyes glinted with amusement, and Alex unwillingly smiled back, thinking as she always did that she’d never met anyone with such long lashes before – long and so fair as to look almost white.
“It’s just that…”
“Aye, I know,” Sandy interrupted her. “And I know you have bairns to fear for.”
They crossed the river and set off in the direction of the millpond, with Sandy and Mark a few paces in front of Alex. Sandy threw Alex a look over his shoulder.
“Have you been studying the texts?”
For an instant Alex had no idea what he meant, but then she remembered and felt a flare of irritation; texts to study and be tested on, making her feel like a child. This minister had repeatedly made it clear just how dissatisfying he considered her religious education – and convictions – to be, and had taken it upon himself to instruct her.
“No, I’ve had too
“Not my husband,” Alex said.
“No? That’s not what we hear. He served in the wars, did he not? As a soldier of parliament.”
Alex shrugged, succeeding in looking disinterested. “I met him seven years ago, a royalist escaping from gaol.”
The captain blinked. “A royalist?”
“Convicted at the court in Ayr,” she nodded. There was no need to tell him the trial had been a farce. Matthew had been falsely accused by his brother, convicted based on his brother’s testimony, when all the while it was Luke, not Matthew, who was the diehard royalist.
The dragoons came back, shaking their heads. After a tense half-hour or so, the two sent off to inspect the mill returned, empty-handed. Alex’ shoulders dropped an inch.
“We’ll be back,” the officer said as he turned his horse. “Please convey my regards to your husband.” It came out with quite the edge.
“I’ll be sure to.” Alex curtsied and stood still until the last of the horse rumps dipped out of sight.
No sooner were they gone than she was hurrying up the hill. She met Mark making his way back down and gave him a hug.
“Are you okay?” Her son was rosy with excitement, squirming in her arms.
“We went out the back way,” he said, “just as the soldiers rode up to the door.”
“Oh.” Alex clutched him to her.
“Mama!” He pushed at her. “He’s at the oak, hiding.”
As far as Alex was concerned, Sandy could bloody well stay there, but with a sigh she rose to her feet.
“We’d best go and tell him it’s safe.”
Mark made as if to rush off, but Alex took his hand.
“I’ll come with you, okay?”
The hiding place was ingenious. Apart from Matthew, only Alex and Mark knew of its existence. While Alex was uncomfortable with lumbering her son with this kind of information, Matthew shrugged, saying that Mark had to be taught to run and warn – as he had done today.
Alex trudged after Mark down to where the millrun re-joined the river, walking along the water’s edge until they reached a point opposite the old oak that hung precariously over the eroded river bank. The water was unpleasantly cold but shallow as they waded across. The platform was barely visible from below, even now in late October with the leaves more or less gone. At Mark’s whistle a tousled head appeared, reappearing some minutes later on the ground.
Sandy Peden took off his mask and wig and rubbed his fingers through his thinning hair.
“They’re gone,” Alex said, meeting calm grey eyes. “So you can relax and go back to the room at the mill.” Why not read up a bit more on the Bible, or pack your stuff together and go somewhere else altogether?
Sandy seemed to see what she was thinking, and scratched at his chest.
“Nay, I’ll be leaving.” He inclined his head in the direction of the moss. “A wee bit too close this time.” He did look rather shaken, hands smoothing at his coat. “You’ve been most kind, Alexandra, but I don’t want to overstay my welcome.” His eyes glinted with amusement, and Alex unwillingly smiled back, thinking as she always did that she’d never met anyone with such long lashes before – long and so fair as to look almost white.
“It’s just that…”
“Aye, I know,” Sandy interrupted her. “And I know you have bairns to fear for.”
They crossed the river and set off in the direction of the millpond, with Sandy and Mark a few paces in front of Alex. Sandy threw Alex a look over his shoulder.
“Have you been studying the texts?”
For an instant Alex had no idea what he meant, but then she remembered and felt a flare of irritation; texts to study and be tested on, making her feel like a child. This minister had repeatedly made it clear just how dissatisfying he considered her religious education – and convictions – to be, and had taken it upon himself to instruct her.
“No, I’ve had too
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