Chapter Four
Meg
Meg hadn’t said much to her father because she knew it would be a waste of time. She’d asked only one question: “Why?”
“Because it’s time. You need to marry. Have a life away from here. Like your sister. She’s probably living a happy life with two bairns by now. You could be in the same situation in two years, if you give it a chance.”
Away from you is how she interpreted his reply.
There would be no arguing, so she had only one alternative. She would have to run away in the middle of the night. Grateful that her father said he had much to do outside, she spent time in her bedchamber, packing a small sack to take with her, hiding it under the pile of clothes she had yet to wash.
There were only three horses, but one was supposed to belong to her, so she would take that one. Big Blue wasn’t the fastest horse, but she would get Meg to her destination.
That was her biggest question.
Finished with her packing, she stepped back into the main chamber, wondering where exactly she would go. She didn’t know anyone other than the few neighbors in the small nearby village. And no one there would help her.
Many years ago, when her mother was still alive, they attended a church about an hour away, but that would be too close now. Her father would search for her and discover if she were nearby. It had to be farther away. She glanced into a small bowl on the side table, then reached for the one thing she would add to her travels.
Her sister’s bracelet. Tamsin had made it for Meg years ago from a fine yarn she’d found, winding it into a circle of tiny, light-blue loops. She’d made herself a matching one and they’d vowed to wear them whenever they were together. Meg hadn’t worn it since Tamsin left. Since Tamsin’s departure, the bracelet had sat here in the bowl of collectibles, attracting dust with the other pieces. Meg picked it up and moved back into her bedchamber to tuck it into her bag.
Her father came in and stood just inside the door, staring at her. “Look, lass. It may not be the best match, but he’ll not live long. Once he goes, you’ll be a baroness and will be able to do whatever you wish. You’ll have a couple of bairns, and you’ll be happy then. Your mother adored you two girls. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for you. Just be a good girl and all will be fine.”
She nodded, not knowing what else to say. “I’m tired. May I go to my chamber, Papa?”
“You’ll need a good night’s sleep, I’m guessing.” He waved her on, so she moved into her chamber, closing the door softly behind her. There was one other thing she had to get before she left.
Her axes. She had two of different sizes.
She and Tamsin had practiced using an axe long ago. Tamsin had been a total failure at it, but Meg had learned to use it well. If she hadn’t learned, they’d not have eaten as well over the years. Her skill had branched from rabbits to deer, to her father’s delight, though they had little ability to smoke much meat here. He’d taken it to the village smoker, though they had to share with the other villagers, but deer meat was the best of all.
In fact, that was the time they’d met the wee lass named Alana. She’d been seven summers and had cute blond curls. When they left, Tamsin had whispered to her, “Someday when I marry, I’m going to have a wee lass and I’ll call her Alana, just like that girl. Was she not precious?”
Meg had never given any thought to having bairns or getting married.
She listened to her father fiddle in the main chamber. She knew he would then sit, read the Bible by candlelight, then go in to find his bed.
She planned to give herself another hour before she dared sneak away.
Resting on the bed, she counted in her mind the same way she always did. Numbers calmed her. Ever since her mother had taught them numbers, she’d loved them. In fact, long ago, she and Tamsin would play adding games. If one had twenty and you gained thirty, then how many would one have? After a bit of help, Meg taught Tamsin how to do it easily in her head. Adding was fun.
One and twenty mixed with seven would give you…
Much later, Meg bolted up in bed, shocked that she’d fallen asleep. It was still dark out. She moved the fur back from her window after climbing off the bed, shivering as she stared up at the moon.
It was time to go.
She crept out, not making a sound with the door because it had never latched, then tiptoed across the floor, her bag in hand. She grabbed her mantle and a scarf, one of the lap furs by the hearth, then crept outside. She’d donned a pair of trews she often used when gardening, tucking two gowns into her bag along with her underclothing and a comb with a few slivers of soap. Lifting her axes from the rock outside, she wrapped both in the sheath, then in a heavy fabric, and hung them from the saddle along with her bag. She took some food for her mare, then a deep breath, and set off down the path.
While she questioned which direction to head, she knew only one thing about Tamsin. Her husband lived on the Isle of Ulva.
Meg had no choice. She headed toward the sea with the few coins she’d saved tucked away for a ferry to get her to Ulva.
Wherever that was.
She had no idea.