Glens of Stone, Day26

Robert allowed himself a rueful laugh. Whoever had orchestrated this escape had some nerve

Three hours later, John Porteous was preparing for sleep when the door of his prison vault opened. Although the only light came from two candle stubs, he recognised his visitor. “You!” he exclaimed. The man raised a finger to his lips. “Hush,” he warned, “we haven’t much time. We must move quickly.” “What about Ellie?” The man held a keyring aloft, jangling it.“Don’t worry, she’s next.”

The pair emerged into the dark passage and crept a few doors along. The man inserted a key in the lock. Ellie had been lying down, close to sleep, but she scrambled to her feet on seeing the two men.

“Mr Porteous! And Ewan! Is it you?” “It’s me, all right,” Ewan Ogilvie answered. “Explanations later, Ellie. For now, let’s get out of here.”

The three crept their way through the maze of corridors and up the steps to ground level. Small torches blazed in elaborate sconces and by their light Ellie could see Ewan more clearly. “I hardly know you, Ewan! Your face – those pock marks! And what’s this? A Redcoat uniform! How could you?”

“Heaven preserve us from prattling women!” Ewan muttered fiercely. “Ellie, never mind my appearance. Follow my instructions and we’ll be out of here shortly.” Satisfied he had their attention, he went on.

Challenge

“In the courtyard outside you’ll see a supply wagon drawn by two horses. Clamber on to the wagon and cover yourselves with the straw. I’ll drive the horses – all you have to do is lie low.”

“What of the guards?” John asked. “Leave them to me,” Ewan assured him. “Are you ready?”

He pulled open the heavy door and escorted them to the waiting wagon. It took very little time to hide them from prying eyes and, satisfied, Ewan climbed into the seat and urged the horses forward.

Ellie lay curled up, hardly daring to breathe as the wagon clattered over ruts and cobbles until at last it drew to a halt. She heard the sentry’s challenge and Ewan’s affable response. “I wasn’t told of this,” the guard was grumbling. “Of course not, it’s top secret.” Ewan put a finger to his lips.

“Supplies for the Canongate Mission House?” The man sounded doubtful, but then he grinned. “Oh, I remember – I was with the captain that night he promised a lassie some provisions. He was fair embarrassed at having to apologise, as I recall.” “Was he now?” Ewan pretended amusement. The sentry frowned. “It’s a bit late at night to be taking this stuff down there, isn’t it?”

“When else could it be done?” Ewan adopted a conspiratorial tone. “Castle provisions being given to civilians? The captain’s ashamed enough as it is without it becoming public knowledge.”

“I take your point,” the guard said, gently slapping the neck of the horse nearest him. “Off you go, then.” He stood and watched as the wagon trundled off.

The wagon slowed when they reached the high street. “You can come up for air now,” Ewan called out. Ellie’s face broke through the straw at once. “Another minute back there and I’d have sneezed my head off!” She gasped. “Me, too.” John Porteous heaved himself up, spluttering. He looked around, squinting to see where they were.

“Just at the toll booth,” Ewan told him. “We’re making for the Mission, then?” John sounded eager.

Carousing

“No! That’s the first place the soldiers will search when they realise you’re missing. I think you know where we’ll be safe, John,” he said, “but for now I’m laying a bit of a smokescreen in case any of the military are still carousing in the taverns. They’ll swear they saw the supply wagon leaving by the Netherbow Port and assume we’d take the road to Leith or the east.”

“So?” John queried. “So I’m taking you both to Duddingston. Marshall will never think of looking for you there, even if he could be bothered to search for you.”

“Of course he will,” John said. “He’ll be spitting mad when he learns we’re gone.”

“Perhaps so,” Ewan admitted, “but I have the feeling Marshall regrets ever arresting you, and I’m sure he tried to get you released early – or even to persuade General Guest to let you go.”

“You seem to know a lot about what the captain feels and does, Ewan,” Ellie said suspiciously. “Not really. Just a wild guess now and again.”

They reached Duddingston shortly before midnight and Ewan roused the landlord of the Lochside tavern. John and Ellie were shown to two bedrooms where, tired out, they quickly fell asleep.

Satisfied, Ewan drove the wagon the few yards uphill to the Sheep Heid inn. There he had a blearyeyed groom unload it and store the provisions. Then, assured the horses would be well looked after, he headed for his own room, pleased with his night’s work.

It was a feeling definitely not shared by Robert when the discovery was made next morning. “Missing?” he bellowed. “How can they be missing?”

Robert set off for the guardroom, buttoning his tunic as he went. A nervous sentry assured him that no unauthorised personnel had left the castle, only soldiers, and certainly no elderly man and young girl.

“Then where the devil are they?” Robert was contemplating forming a search party when the sentry coughed to catch his attention. “Er, there was the supply wagon, sir.”

Robert felt a chill creep up the back of his neck. “What supply wagon?”

“The driver assured me you knew about it, sir,” the guard protested as the castle was turned upside down in the hunt for John Porteous and Ellie. “What was in the wagon?” Robert asked, suspicion growing.

“The driver said it was provisions for the Mission – like you promised the lassie that night, sir!”

“I suppose it’s too much to ask if you searched the wagon?”

Foodstuffs

The soldier avoided Robert’s gaze. Answer enough. Robert allowed himself a rueful laugh. Whoever had orchestrated this escape had some nerve. A niggling feeling sent him towards the store rooms. There, as he feared, a young dragoon admitted he’d helped another soldier load up a wagon with assorted foodstuffs.

Malcolm Porteous arrived at the castle shortly afterwards to see his father. “They aren’t here,” Robert told him. “They escaped during the night.” He gestured to Malcolm to follow him, noticing the other man’s keen interest in everything around him.

“We have men and provisions to withstand a siege,” Robert told him.

“Siege, Captain Marshall?” Malcolm probed mildly. “The rebels are but a mile or so away,” Robert said bluntly. “But at this very moment they are likely encountering Colonel Gardiner, one of our best commanders. The colonel has mustered two dragoon regiments, ably supported by a vast Volunteer Corps made up of Edinburgh men who have no wish to see a Stuart on the throne.”

“My, but the Prince’s followers must be shaking in their boots,” Malcolm said solemnly.

“Mock if you will –” Robert’s tone was savage “– but I warrant the rebels will be miles away by morning, their tails between their legs.”

More tomorrow.

Glens of Stone was previously a serial in The People’s Friend. There’s more great fiction in The People’s Friend every week, £1.30 from newsagents and supermarkets.

Artwork: Mandy Dixon