Chapter 6
Tearlach was so hungry that if he could have eaten the straw out of the mattresses he would have done it. He had not eaten for over a day and he was beginning to feel faint. He watched Caitrin as she busied herself about the kitchen, preparing a stew for him. Meat was always in short supply, so he did not expect any, and he was surprised when he saw chunks of rabbit in the stew as well as grain and vegetables. His mouth was watering profusely.
“Do ye hunt?” he asked, impressed.
“No, but my neighbor does,” she replied, smiling. “We share what we can with each other. Now an’ again I go fishin’ an’ I share my catch with him. I am lucky to have such good people livin’ near me.”
Caitrin placed a steaming bowl in front of him, and handed him a couple of big chunks of bread. It was not the freshest, but Tearlach did not care as long as it filled his stomach. He wolfed it down in minutes, but did not think he could ask for more - he was grateful for what he had eaten, even though it had not quite filled him up.
“Ye’re still no’ satisfied,” Caitrin observed, smiling. “I gave birth to three sons, Tearlach. I know a hungry face when I see one.”
“I dinnae want to take a’ your food.” He frowned at his empty bowl. “I have had enough. Thank ye, Caitrin.”
Caitrin looked down at him. He was a very personable young man, and she had no doubt that many young women had fallen victim to his charms, although it seemed to her that Norah was resisting them. She was putting a fence around her heart, Caitrin could see, even though it was obvious to a blind person that the two of them were totally smitten with each other. She had done just the same with her husband until he had broken down her resistance. How foolish young people were, she thought.
Caitrin placed a cup of aleand another plate of stew in front of Tearlach. “Eat this an’ be quiet,” she ordered, giving him a playful cuff around the ear. He looked up at her mock-stern expression and grinned, then he ate it all without stopping. “I dinnae want to hear another word till a’ that food is gone.”
When he had finished, Caitrin took the bowl away from him, then sat down in the seat opposite him and picked up her knitting again. He watched as her fingers flew, weaving the yarn into fabric as she went, and marveled at the ease with which she worked. It looked like magic. While she knitted, she hummed a little melody, and he joined in, recognising it as one his mother used to sing him as a child.
Caitrin smiled at him, and as she finished the song, she put down her work and studied him intently. “What brought ye to this pass?” she asked. “Ye didnae need to become a soldier.”
Tearlach sighed. He had no wish to drag up the past again, but this kind old lady was feeding him and letting him use her home. The least he owed her was the story of how he had become a fugitive. However, he wanted to make sure that she knew the risk she was taking.
“I will tell ye my story if ye wish,” he said carefully, “but Mistress Caitrin, dae ye know the danger ye are puttin’ yourself in? If ye know nothin’, ye can tell them nothin’, but if ye dae, then ye are in great danger.”
Caitrin sighed and reached over to take his hands in hers. She smiled. “Such big hands,” she murmured. “I will tell ye mine first. My man Peter had hands like these, though he wasnae as big an’ strong as you are. We had three bairns together, an’ we were happy. The boys grew up an’ left an’ had bairns of their own, an’ we went on, livin’ our life in peace. There is a wee bit of land here, an’ we grew some vegetables, picked fruit an’ mushrooms fae the forest, an’ milked our goat an’ ate our eggs. Peter helped our neighbors when they needed him for thatchin’ an’ woodwork an’ suchlike.” She paused, and he saw the glitter of tears in her eyes.
Then she swallowed and composed herself. “One day we were goin’ about our business as usual when four redcoats came in to bother us. They were hungry an’ lookin’ for somethin’ to eat, they said. Pete told him we only had enough for ourselves, but they didnae listen.
They took a’ our eggs an’ most o’ the vegetables fae the kitchen garden. Pete tried to stop them, but they hit him on the head with a spade. He fell to the ground an’ never got up again.” She stared deeply into Tearlach’s eyes, and her own were black with hatred. “Ye asked me why I hate the Sassenachs? That is why. If I could kill every last one o’ them I would.” She stopped, and her ferocious demeanor cracked when a tear flowed down her cheek.
Tearlach felt infinitely sorry for her. He moved across to sit on the seat beside her then wrapped his arms around her for a moment. He felt wretched for having allowed her to bring up all this misery again. This poor old lady had suffered more than he ever had.
“I am so sorry,” he whispered. “Ye really didnae need to bring a’ that up again,”
“I am fine.” Caitrin drew out of his arms and gave him a tearful smile. “Sometimes it helps to let it a’ out. Tell me your story, Tearlach.”
Tearlach rested his face in his hands for a moment. “Are ye sure, Caitrin?”
“I am,” she replied tersely. “Get on with it.”
“Well, when I was seventeen, a friend of mine ran away to join the forces of Bonnie Prince Charlie.” He raked his hands backwards through his hair and closed his eyes as if to dispel the image in front of them. “A friend of my Da had been killed in battle an’ I thought it would be very noble to avenge him. I was young an’ daft an’ thought it would be a great adventure, so I ran away wi’ my pal. I soon found out that war an’ battle isnae much fun at a’. I took part in an uprisin’ against the British, an’ now I am wanted for treason.
When we were campin’ in the forest one night I killed a redcoat in self-defence when he tried to sneak up behind me, so I am wanted for murder too. I cannae go back to my family, since they cannae take me back - it is too dangerous for them, an’ I cannae blame them.
For the last three years I have been runnin’ with a band of other outlaws, attacking the British when we can. But pride comes before a fall, they say. We were too full o’ ourselves, an’ when we saw a band of redcoats makin’ camp near here we decided to attack them an’ steal their ammunition, since our supply was runnin’ low.” He stopped to take a sip of ale, then launched into his story again.
“One of our lads had a bit too much ale that night. As well as that, he was new to this kind o’ life. He had just joined us an’ hadnae learned the knack o’ movin’ quietly. The redcoat night guard saw him, an’ in a minute all hell broke loose. They started to chase us, but we got away.
We didnae get a single musket ball, though. We got nothin’ that night.” He laughed ruefully. “If I could live that night over again I would dae it all differently.” He shook his head and ran his fingers back through his hair again in exasperation. It had become a gesture he did so often now that he was surprised he had any hair left. “Now, if they get their hands on me, my life will be over in minutes.”
“I will kill them myself if they try to take ye,” Caitrin growled, gripping her needles as though they were daggers.
“No!” Tearlach stood up and took the old woman’s arms in a tight grip. “Ye have nae idea what these men are like, Mistress. They have daggers, swords an’ muskets, an’ a wee woman like you would have nae chance against them. As well as that, they have nae hearts. I have seen them killin’ a man in cold blood, as you have. Whatever ye dae, do not try to fight them. Ye can always get more things, but he can never get your life back.”
Caitrin nodded slowly, then took the dishes away and stacked them together preparatory to washing them. She busied herself around the cottage for a while before speaking.
“Norah’ an’ I have been together for a few months an’ she has never mentioned you. Why is that? I would have thought that your name would have cropped up when we were talkin’ at least once. Ye said ye used tae be good friends.”
“I don’t think she ever forgave me for runnin’ away,” he replied, sighing. “As ye can probably see, she is refined, an’ I am not. She is well educated, an’ I am not. We never had a future together, an’ I think I always knew it, but maybe Norah clung onto her dreams longer than I did. Maybe it is the way o’ lassies.
Men always want to be big an’ strong to impress the ladies, but ladies are much softer than we are, with more tender hearts. I think I hurt her badly, an’ that is why she didnae speak to me. Or maybe she doesnae care any more. But she has always been a person who keeps her feelin’s to herself, so if she was hurt, she likely would not have said anythin’. I am very sorry that I ran away, but even if I had stayed, we would never have had a future together.”
Caitrin knew what Norah had been running away from, but she said nothing, reasoning that if Norah wanted to tell him about her flight from an unwanted marriage she would have done so herself.
“She never liked her father very much,” Caitrin remarked. “Although she didnae tell me in so many words. Whenever I asked about him she would always try an’ talk about somethin’ else.”
“Naebody liked her father very much!” Tearlach said, his voice full of derision. “He is a puffed up eejit o’ a man, always tryin’ to show how important he is. I never understood how he managed to sire a wonderful daughter like Norah.”
The old lady looked at him shrewdly. “Is it not a funny thing that she was the one who found ye, though?” she asked. “Ye havenae seen each other for years an’ ye end up here in the same place at the same time?”
Tearlach had opened his mouth to answer her when suddenly the door crashed open and Norah shot through it. She was out of breath and flushed with exertion, her hair wildly tangled, but that was not what scared Tearlach and Caitrin. Norah looked absolutely terrified.