The Highwayman's Curse Read Free

son. That I would make my own way and find my own life.
    But, for now, we had to decide what to do with the injured boy. And I knew that on this matter I was right.
    â€œHe will be of use to us,” I argued. “His people will thank us for bringing him back safely. We have need of friends in this place.” I still felt anger at Bess’s words, but I would keep my feelings inside. We were tired, too tired, and we had been through much together. It would not do to quarrel now. “We cannot leave him, Bess. I will not stand for that. It’s not right. My heart says so and what are we if we have no heart?”
    She shook her head but answered thus, “Then on your head be the consequences!” And she shrugged, but I understood that she would do as we agreed. Her anger had been quick to start, but its strength had burnt out as fast. Her face once more looked tired, drained of vigour and expression.
    I had thought to place the boy on my horse but Bess stopped me. “Merlin is calmer, less inclined to shy. The boy should go with me.” She was right and so I agreed. Together we gently lifted the child onto Merlin and she climbed up behind him into the ample saddle. When she was ready and the boy was as secure as we could make him, I mounted Blackfoot, and we made our way slowly down the path towards the road.
    There was a silence between us and then Bess spoke. Her voice was somewhat strained. “I am sorry. I regret my words. I’m glad you stayed with me and I’m sorry I did not thank you properly.”
    Hiding my surprise, I smiled at her, then turned away and smiled to myself.
    She had not finished voicing the thoughts in her head. “But I still believe you to be wrong. That it is foolish to take the boy. I warrant you I’m right.”
    I ignored her words. I preferred to remember her apology.
    A soft and watery sun warmed our faces as we rode down the slope, and my spirits lifted. Here in Scotland, the land of Bess’s ancestors, the country of her beloved father, the notorious highwayman, we might find a home and, perchance, a peaceful way to live.
    I would put behind me the terrors of the last few weeks and the cruel deaths we had witnessed. We would forget our pain – the shame that I had felt when I had discovered my father’s corruption, and Bess’s despair and anger when the redcoats burnt down the cottage where she held the memories of her murdered father.
    And as for the ringing words of the curse that had been hurled at me as punishment for my father’s crimes, they were mere words. “The devil take the sheriff’s son!” Who was any man to say so? What strength did the devil’s words have when God was on my side?
    No power at all. If we always acted with justice and right on our side, nothing could hurt us. Nothing at all.

Chapter Four
    W e were on the same path as we had ridden the day before, making our way back to the road which went from east to west. From the morning sun to our left, we were travelling almost due south. The sea glinted ahead of us.
    How full of colour everything seemed, how rich and wet and fertile, compared with the stone-strewn moors around Carlisle, where we had escaped the redcoats, and the wild and windy land near Hexham where I had lived with my parents. The blue-grey of a pine forest in the distance, the bright yellows of young gorse bushes, splashes of sunlight on brown grasses, pinks and brightest greens all daubed the rolling layers of hills. Rivers and streams wrinkled the slopes, and sometimes they trickled across our path. The ground was often clogged with marsh grasses, and water birds flew up as we passed. Everywhere was the smell of wetness.
    Hunger grumbled in my stomach and I thought of the few provisions we had remaining – we would need to find food before long.
    Not a sound did I hear the boy make. Once I looked at his face. His head lolled weakly and his skin looked grey as hogs’