When Fate Dictates (18 page)

It was not long before we had pulled off the
road and into a small clearing in some trees beside a stream. Simon
unhitched Polly and I set about rooting through the cart in search
of some food for Duncan. Soon we had a good fire and camp set up
and the three of us huddled together as we ate for the first time
since leaving York. It was a cold, damp and gray day and I was glad
of the warmth of the fire. Simon handed me a flask of whisky, which
I took thankfully but regretted it as soon as I drank from it. All
of a sudden extreme tiredness came over me and I blinked hard in an
effort to keep my eyes open.

“I am so tired,” I said to Simon, blinking
again.

“Put your head down for a while, I will watch
the wee lad.”

“But you must be tired too Simon.”

“If you sleep now and I watch the lad, then I
will sleep later. I have to attend to the horse and I think Duncan
would enjoy helping me with that.” I saw the sense in what he said
and nodded gratefully. He moved over toward the cart and pulled two
blankets out.

“Here, wrap these around you and settle by
the fire. The lad and I have work to do,” he said, lifting Duncan
onto his shoulders. “You come with daddy and we will go and see to
Polly. Mummy needs some rest.”

I woke to the sight of Simon and Duncan both
fast asleep in front of the fire. I found some twigs and placed
them gently on the smoldering fire. They popped and smoked as the
damp wood touched the hot embers and I watched, with bated breath,
hoping that they would not smother the fire. As it went, the twigs
did catch and soon flames were glowing from the fire. The damp
morning mist was lifting as the sun rose higher in the morning
sky.

For the hour or so that Simon and Duncan
slept I busied myself with clearing up the camp, re-packing the
cart and hitching Polly. All that remained to be done when they
woke was to pack away their quilt and smother the fire, which we
did with expert precision.

“How far is it to Harrogate?” I asked as
Simon mounted the cart, and nudged up beside me.

“About twenty five or so miles from York, if
we can find an inn before the sun sets tonight it would be good,”
he replied, looking thoughtfully ahead as he steered Polly out of
the clearing and back onto the road.

******

As the days and nights passed and the air
grew warmer, we drew ever nearer to the border of Scotland. Apart
from being aware that we had headed steadily further north every
day since leaving Harrogate, I still had no idea where Simon was
taking us. Knowing that he would not tell me until he was ready, I
had not bothered to ask again.

We reached the isolated, white sandy beaches
of Berwick-upon-Tweed. Above us, the seagulls cried as they soared
over the tide which lashed furiously against the coast. As the wind
howled off the sea and whipped relentlessly at the cart, I pulled
Duncan closer to my chest wrapping the shawl tighter around us.

“I thought it was supposed to be summer?” I
shouted, hoping to be heard above the wind.

“The weather up here is often like this
Corran, you will get used to it soon enough,” he bellowed back.

Duncan raised his head from the shawl and
screwed up his eyes against the wind. Gently, I pushed his little
head back against my chest and lowered my head over the top of his
in an attempt to offer him some protection from the wind. I could
see Simon pulling at the reins, struggling to keep the horse on its
path as it too fought against the pounding force of the coastal
gale. Spotting an inn up ahead, I pointed in its direction.

“Let’s stop there Simon, I can’t keep myself
and Duncan on the cart for the wind.”

Simon drew the cart to a halt, signaling to
me to take Duncan inside whilst he saw to the horse. I hunched
protectively over Duncan as I carried him toward the inn door.
Pulling the door toward me against the wind with one hand and
hanging on to Duncan with the other, it was just about possible to
open the door wide enough to squeeze through. I tumbled, in a
rather undignified manner, straight into an elderly gentleman.

“Good day to you too, madam,” he said in an
accent I did not recognize, but assumed it to be of wealthy
origins.

“Err, good day to you, sir...” I mumbled in
reply, attempting to compose myself and hoist Duncan into position
on my hips.

“Can I be of some assistance to you?” he
asked, in a polite, cultured tone.

I shook my head. “That is very kind of you,
sir... but I think we are alright.”

“Then I shall bid you good day,” he said,
raising his hat and reaching for the door. Another great blast of
air tore past me as he left the room.

“That is some wind we have out there little
man,” I said to Duncan as I looked around the room for signs of the
innkeeper. Finally spotting what looked very much like the person
in question, I lowered Duncan to the floor, took his chubby little
hand in mine and led him toward the man.

“Excuse me; are you the gentleman who owns
this inn?” I asked, as we arrived within hearing distance of the
person in question.

“Oh aye, that I would be,” he replied in the
deep dulcet tones of a baritone. Taken slightly off guard by the
tone and volume of his voice, I stared, rather rudely at him,
wondering as I did how such a small frame could produce such a
great sound. He was a slight, ageing man with a long silver beard
and hair to match. “And who would like to know?” he boomed
eventually.

“Oh... I was just wondering if you had any
space for my family. There are only the three of us; my husband, my
little boy and me. We... we don’t require much, just a warm, dry
place to shelter,” I stammered, feeling somewhat pathetic.

He nodded, smiling a warm and friendly smile.
“Oh, aye, I can help you there. Come with me and I will show you
what I have available.”

The room was simply furnished, dry and warm
but, for the time being, those were our requirements.

“Do you think we could have some food?” I
inquired, handing him a handful of coins in payment for the
room.

“Aye, I should think I could manage something
for the three of you. Do you want the food in your room Mrs.?”

“Lamont,” I replied helpfully, “and yes, in
our room would be very nice, thank you.”

Having finally handed the horse’s reins to a
yawning stable lad, Simon had set about finding a secure place to
park the cart. Over the months, the safe storage of the cart had
probably been our biggest challenge and cost and the main reason
why we had often chosen to sleep in clearings on the side of the
road.

“You look terrible,” I said as he lumbered,
weary and windswept through the door and into our room, dumping our
travel bags heavily on the floor.

“Aye, thank you, Corran, I feel much better
now,” he said, a smile curling at the corner of his lips.

“Did you find a safe place to store the
cart?” I asked.

He nodded. “Found a chap who was happy to
take a small sum in return for the use of a barn,” he paused,
looking across the room toward the pot of food the old man had
brought up a few minutes earlier. His nose twitched in its
direction. “Is that a lamb stew I can smell?”

“It is, and I was just about to dish some up
for Duncan, would you like a bowlful?” I asked, making my way
toward the table and preparing to fill two bowls.

“I don’t think you really need to ask that
question.”

I smiled, spooning a large portion of the
stew into the bowl and handing it to him. Duncan was by his side
the minute he had the bowl in his hand. I smiled to myself,
wondering if all males were as these two appeared: ruled by their
stomachs.

Having dished a smaller portion into the
other bowl, I reached over and lifted Duncan onto my knee.

“Come here little man and let your daddy
eat,” I said, making ridiculous clippity-clop sounds as I played
horses with the spoon, guiding it toward his eager open mouth.
Simon reached for his flask, appreciatively sipping its
content.

“No wonder they call this the water of life,”
he said, sighing. Replacing the flask on the table, he looked
across at me. “Would you like me to tell you where we are
going?”

I put Duncan’s spoon in the bowl and looked
up at him.

“I thought you were never going to ask,” I
replied, sarcasm oozing from my voice.

“Well if you are going to be like that then
I’m not sure I can be bothered,” he said, clearly annoyed with my
response.

“Fine then, don’t bother. You have waited
this long to share your plans with me, why not wait till we
actually get wherever it is you are taking us.”

We sat in silence as I irritably spooned the
last few mouthfuls of Duncan’s dinner into his mouth. Simon
finished his bowl of stew, rose from his chair and without a word
swung his coat on and left the room. I piled the bowls on top of
each other, and dressed Duncan into his night clothes.

“Come on little man, it’s time for your bed,”
I said, lifting him onto the large double bed and pulling the bed
sheet and quilt back.

“Mummy come to bed?” he asked, patting the
pillow. I smiled and bent to kiss him lightly on the forehead.

“Aye, Duncan, mummy is going to come to bed
now.”

“Daddy, come to bed?” he replied.

I shook my head. “Not just yet sweetheart,
daddy is busy but he will come to bed soon. Close your little eyes
and mummy will come and cuddle you.”

It was late the next morning before either
Duncan or I stirred. The morning sun poured in through the window
of the room and the birds chirped cheerfully on the ledge outside.
It seemed almost impossible that only last night the wind and rain
had lashed the same panes of glass upon which the sun now shone. As
I sat up, I noticed Simon, fully dressed and sitting at the table,
looking over some documents. He lifted his head as he heard me
stir.

“Morning, did you sleep well?” I said, my
tone slightly colder than I meant it to be.

“Aye and I take it you did, by the hour at
which you are rising.” I shot him a sharp look but noticed as I did
that his face bore a wide grin.

“Am I forgiven then?” he said.

I smiled, despite my annoyance. “Aye, you are
forgiven,” I said, getting out of bed.

“What are you doing?” I said, squinting
across at the table.

“Aye, now that would be telling,” he replied
mysteriously.

“No, seriously Simon, let’s not start this
again, just tell me what you are doing?”

He pointed his index finger at a sheet of
paper on the table.

“Well, if you are of a mind to listen now,”
he replied, pausing to see if I would take the bait, but on this
occasion I choose not to accept it.

“I am listening,” I said patiently.

“Do you remember when we stopped in
Harrogate?” he said.

“Duncan thirsty.”

I turned to see the little boy sitting up in
bed, his blond hair all ruffled from sleep.

“Good morning darling,” I said.

“Duncan thirsty,” he repeated.

“Come sweetheart, mummy has some milk here,”
I said, reaching over the papers on the table for a small jug of
milk and pouring it into a mug. “Yes, I do remember us stopping in
Harrogate,” I said, lifting Duncan onto my knee and handing him the
mug of milk. Simon got up and walked across to a leather bag on the
floor by the bed, out of which he took Duncan’s clothes. Returning
to the table he handed them to me.

“Thanks,” I said, taking them off him.
Noticing that Duncan had finished his milk, I took the mug off the
little boy and proceeded to dress him.

“My pleasure,” he said, sitting back down at
the table. “Anyway, I met with a man there who has a lot of
dealings up this way. He gave me two contact names and to cut a
long story short, I have sold the gold, for a good price, and spent
some of it on land just across the border.”

“Land!” I said with shock. “What on earth are
you going to do with land?”

“I rather hoped to farm it, actually,” he
replied with indignation.

“Why would you want to farm?”

“Why not?” he replied.

“You know what I mean, you are no farmer. You
will hate the life.”

“Corran, if what you told me in York is true
then we can’t live where people can know us. All I want in life is
you and wee Duncan.”

“Well, I can’t say that I am unhappy about
the idea. You and our boy are all I want in life too. Before the
Red Coats came, farming was all I knew and it was a good life... a
hard, but good life.”

I set a now fully dressed Duncan onto the
floor. He ran straight over to his daddy, who swung him into his
arms.

“I love you little fella,” he said, ruffling
the golden locks on his head.

“Are you sure about this Simon?”

He smiled, looking down at our son. “It’s a
bit late if I’m not,” he said, his eyes glowing with the promise of
a new adventure. “I have never been so sure of anything
Corran.”

I nodded, but remained unconvinced that the
life of a farmer was one that would ever satisfy Simon.

“We will leave soon, it’s about thirty miles
from here, I don’t want to stop on the way. I have a lot of money
on me and there are people who know I have it. It won’t be safe to
take too long over the trip.”

******

The moon partially lit the winding road,
through small wooded valleys and up rolling hills. I had no idea
how he would know the land when we came upon it but he seemed
confident of our tracks so I did not doubt that before sunrise, we
would arrive at our new home.

“It is not too far now, Corran, is the wee
lad alright?” Simon asked, taking his eyes off the winding road for
a moment to glance down at Duncan.

“He is fine,” I replied, pulling the shawl
higher around the little boy’s chin. He was sandwiched between us,
his head resting gently on my lap.