Part 15 (2/2)
After some hesitation, the big lad did. Andrew approached him cautiously, fully prepared for another trick. But Robert did not move. It was hard, awkward work to pull the heavy protesting lad inch by inch through the tunnel. Once outside, he hauled him by the shoulders to a highly visible spot at the bottom of the path leading up to the rock. There he removed the gag. Instantly, Robert began to swear and cuss.
”You wh.o.r.e, you'll pay for this. Don't think you'll get away.” In his rage he failed to breathe properly and broke into a violent cough. ”You won't get far, I promise. I'll follow you to the end of the world and kill your lover boy slowly. Tear his b.a.l.l.s off one by one, you s.l.u.t. Cut his c.o.c.k.” He had another attack of coughing. ”Whoring around a month before our wedding, while I slave away building us a nice cottage. You ungrateful b.i.t.c.h! I should've shown you who's the master right after the dance. You'll get a hiding you'll never forget, and then I'll show him how a real man ravishes a woman. I'll strangle him slowly, and you'll beg me to kill you too. You deceiving wh.o.r.e, lying to me, making me the laughing stock of the McNabbs and the Campbells. I'll show them how a MacGregor deals with a s.l.u.t like you.”
Helen held her hands over her ears, trying to shut out the flood of abuse, while Andrew simply ignored him.
Hampered by his injury, he needed Helen's help to mount the horse and then pulled her up behind him. She put both arms around his waist and clasped her legs around the horse's rump as best as she could. As he turned the horse away from the lochan, Robert yelled: ”I ravished her, lover boy, and she wanted more. She's probably with child already! My child!”
Andrew did not respond.
”He's lying, Andrew,” murmured Helen.
”I know, Helen. He's just a desperate fool.” He kicked the horse into a trot. ”Hold on tight, love.”
”You wh.o.r.e, I'll get you! Kill you both. You won't get far! ... Wh.o.r.e ... wh.o.r.e ... wh.o.r.e!” Robert's hoa.r.s.e cussing followed them from afar, the echoes mocking them.
He felt Helen shudder at his back and put his left hand rea.s.suringly over hers, squeezing them. She rubbed her head against his shoulder.
He rode rather carefully. Although he could easily find the path down to Achmore in the bright moonlight, they couldn't afford any mishap and going more slowly now would do little to their chances of getting away safely. Both were silent, except for the occasional rea.s.suring ”I love you.”
Just as dawn suggested itself on the horizon, they crossed the Dochart above the falls, a few hundred feet west of Killin. Andrew reined the horse in the darkness of a clump of firs.
”Helen, I think I should go alone to fetch my things at the inn. If anybody saw you there with me, they might get suspicious.”
”Yes, Andrew.”
”This is a good place for you to hide ... or are you afraid to stay here alone for a while? I won't be long.”
”No, I'm not afraid.”
She sounded subdued. He helped her down. All of a sudden, doubts a.s.sailed him about the wisdom of leaving her alone. It wasn't so much that somebody might discover her. He was more afraid that she might change her mind about coming with him and leave. He clambered off the horse too and held her close, begging: ”Helen, promise me by your love for me that you'll stay here until I'll come back and not run away? ... Please, promise?”
”I promise, Andrew. Don't be long!”
He hugged her. ”I love you so, Helen!”
”I love you too, Andrew!”
At the inn, Andrew made various attempts to raise somebody, knocking at doors and windows. Finally, the innkeeper opened the wicket of the main entrance.
”Who makes such a racket? What do you want at this time of the night?”
”It's Andrew Campbell, I took a room with you some ten days ago. Please, Mr. Nichols, let me in!”
For a moment, the innkeeper failed to react, then he exclaimed: ”Master Andrew?” But caution quickly returned and he said: ”Come closer so I can see you.”
Andrew complied, placing his face into the narrow cone of light falling through the opening. A few seconds later, the key turned in the lock and the door opened.
”Come in, master Andrew. Where have you been these past three days? We worried about you. A young man asked for you several times.”
”I had a bad accident. I'm lucky I made it back in one piece.”
”Yes, look at you! You even lost your hat.”
In fact, Andrew's clothes were disheveled, his short waistcoat crumpled and his leather breeches had blood and earth stains. It was difficult to guess the original color of his stockings. His hair hung down loosely.
”As I said, I'm glad I didn't get injured more seriously, just a bad gash in my leg.” He pointed at his left thigh.
While he locked the door the innkeeper briefly looked at the hole in Andrew's breeches and exclaimed: ”This looks like a bullet hole. I'll ask my dear wife to have a look at it later on this morning, Master Andrew. Don't you worry about it. She has taken care of many a wound.”
”Ah, this is a very kind offer,” replied Andrew, ”but as it is, I'm now late for catching the boat. So I must hurry off right away. I'll just pack my things... Oh, there's something else where you may perhaps help me. I completely ruined my saddle in the fall, but fortunately the horse was not hurt. Would you have a good saddle I could buy?”
The innkeeper removed his night cap and scratched himself at the back of his head. ”Mm ... I'll have a look in the stable. I think there's a fairly new saddle somewhere.” But the sudden glint in his eyes left little doubt that he was eager to sell it, hoping for a rather good price. He shuffled to the back of the inn which led to the stables.
Andrew hobbled upstairs, favoring his left leg. In his room, he undressed and washed himself quickly, put on a clean s.h.i.+rt, stockings, and velvet breeches, and knotted a new kerchief around his neck. Then he packed his few belongings into his saddle bags. He slipped his dagger under his belt and checked the two pistols, glad that he had left them behind before going into the mountains. After combing his hair, he gathered it into a tail and put on his French beret. A quick check of the room, and he was again on his way down the stairs, just as Mr. Nichols returned from the stables with a saddle that he had dusted off superficially, revealing that it had seen a lot of use-not fairly new as he had proclaimed.
After a bit of bargaining, Andrew settled his account.
”Just one more thing, Mr. Nichols. I didn't have much food lately and am rather hungry. Would you be willing to pack me double portions of your marvelous sausages, cheeses, and breads? I add another two s.h.i.+llings for it.”
”Wouldn't you rather eat here at your leisure? I can make you a fresh cup of coffee,” ventured the innkeeper.
”That's very kind of you, but I really must be going right away.”
”Why the hurry, master Andrew?”
”Oh, you know that I had wanted to leave already a week ago and stayed because you told me I should not miss the dance. With this accident, I'm now really well behind and can't lose more time or else I'll miss my boat.”
Shaking his head, Mr. Nichols disappeared in the larder, while Andrew busied himself with saddling the horse. The old man soon returned and handed Andrew a fat pouch.
”Thank you for your kind hospitality, Mr. Nichols. You can be sure I'll recommend your inn to other travelers. And now I better be off.” Then it occurred to him that he could sow false information. ”It's a long way to Dundee. I surely hope I haven't missed my boat.”
Somewhat clumsily, he swung himself into the saddle and bent down to shake hands with the innkeeper. As he set his horse into motion, the latter shouted: ”Mind the road near the castle. You have to keep right to go along the loch.”
Andrew waved in acknowledgment and trotted down the road. He was glad that he had given Dundee as his destination. Like this, the innkeeper would confirm that he had seen him ride east toward the true left of Loch Tay. After the last house, Andrew turned, skirting the town, and cantered back along the marshlands to the little forest, the uneasy feeling of having left Helen there alone growing by the minute.
The sky had taken on a delicate, milky white, so typical of a rare clear early morning. A crown of gold was forming around Ben Lawers, heralding the rising of the sun.
He entered the trees and stopped at the place where he had parted with Helen. She was not there, his unease escalating into panic. His heart missed a beat when she came out from behind a tree trunk. He jumped off the horse, winced in pain as he jarred his left thigh, and rushed to her.
”I was afraid you had left me, Helen,” he murmured, holding her tightly.
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