Highwayman's Curse by Nicola Morgan

Author:Nicola Morgan
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Juvenile Fiction, Law & Crime, Action & Adventure, General
ISBN: 9781406303124
Publisher: Walker
Published: 2007-11-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Eight

We slept no more that night. Mouldy had ridden fast to tell Thomas and the others of Iona’s return. It surprised me greatly that he managed to catch them, but I learnt that in such times they used a system of signals, using fires on a hilltop, or lanterns, or burning peat brands, and sometimes by imitating the call of curlews – though they might regard these birds as traitors, yet they would use them.

They had not reached Douglas Murdoch’s place, for the fleeing horseman had led them in a different direction, and then they had lost him. And so they had returned, and were now full of joy at Iona’s safety.

I wondered if they would be as pleased if they knew the whole truth.

Soon a raw morning light spread across the sky and daylight brought much activity. All of us had our allotted tasks: cleaning, repairing, cutting wood, preparing food. I cleaned out the shed where the horses were. This was a task I had no need to undertake at home, having always had servants to do such things for me. Throwing filthy straw onto a pile with a pitchfork, sweeping the floor and washing it down with many buckets of water from the well, was pleasant work indeed. Good, honest work. Having only the horses for company made it all the better and soon my tiredness began to fade.

The ponies were in a large sloping area behind one of the cottages, enclosed by a ramshackle wall. The two cows were outside the wall, untethered, grazing on what they could find, though the grass did not look plentiful yet and the ground was marshy in parts. One cow swung its full udders; the other cow seemed smaller, younger, and followed it as though it was the larger one’s calf. I let the horses into the field, and watched in pleasure as I saw them run, kicking their heels in play, twisting and turning as they enjoyed the spring weather. The ponies began to gallop with them. At the bottom of the slope, they turned and galloped back towards me.

Iona came from round a corner, walking towards the place where the cows were. She wore a dark green skirt and bodice, a clean fawn-coloured apron round her waist. She did not see me there and I simply watched her as she took a slim, bendy stick and flicked it at the cows, driving them expertly into the yard and towards the byre. She made clicking noises with her tongue, and they seemed to understand where she wished them to go. I watched her guide them into the byre.

Wishing to talk to her, I hesitated for some moments, then went after her. As I reached the doorway, my shadow fell across her line of vision, and she looked up. For a moment, there was nothing, and then came a small smile, though perhaps a worried one.

“May I watch?” I asked. I did not particularly wish to watch. I wished to speak to her, but I did not know quite how to begin.

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