Page 47 of Highland Sword
“Aye, that he is.”
“May I wait for him inside?” She glanced meaningfully at a couple of watermen sitting against the building, passing a flask back and forth.
“No better inside, mistress.”
“I’d prefer it, if you don’t mind.”
With a shrug, the guard knocked on the door. A face appeared at a peep hole, and then a bolt slid on the other side. The door creaked open. The guard ushered her through and pointed to a bench just inside. Beyond the entrance, she saw a small dark courtyard surrounded by high walls. Windows of the courthouse and city offices looked down on the open area. A gallows sat ominously at one end. Just above the cobblestones on the far wall, a row of tiny, barred windows ran the entire length of the enclosed space. The sounds of the street were muted here.
The guard explained the situation to the gatekeeper, who bolted the door before disappearing into the building.
“You can sit here and wait, mistress,” the guard said. He went into a small office space beside the gate, and the smell of tobacco immediately drifted into the courtyard.
She didn’t have long to wait. A moment later, Aidan came out of the building with the gatekeeper. His expression upon seeing her inside the jail was murderous. He took her elbow and led her a few feet away. The guard went back out onto the street, and the gatekeeper bolted the door.
Aidan spoke in a hushed voice, but his anger was evident. “Have you lost your mind?”
“They’re outside, looking for me on the street. They chased me down from Barn Hill.”
“Who?” he asked, sending a cautious glance at the gatekeeper. “Who is looking for you?”
“Sir Rupert Burney’s men.”
His grey eyes met hers, and a hand wrapped protectively around her upper arm, leading her a few more feet away. She talked fast and told him everything—from finding out from Mrs. Goddard that the artist was living at Barn Hill to meeting the woman in the gardens.
“Sir Rupert arrived while I was speaking with her.”
She left out her momentary impulse of putting a knife in the heart of the spymaster.
“I had to escape on foot. They came after me, searching in every shop along High Street. This was the only place where I thought they wouldn’t look.”
“No doubt, she told him who you were.”
“She had no choice. She would have come with me if she could. I want to go back for her.”
“You’re going nowhere near Barn Hill,” he ordered. He thought for a moment before leading her to the bench. “Stay here and wait for me. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
She didn’t argue. Morrigan watched Aidan approach the gatekeeper. A few words were exchanged before the man opened the door and let him out.
She sat on the bench, but she was too restless to stay there. She stood again. Twice, the guard’s knock came on the door and the gate opened to admit visitors. Long minutes passed. The bells in the Tolbooth steeple above her ran the hour. Two in the afternoon.
While she waited, Morrigan studied the courtyard and the row of cell windows.
Perhaps there was once a time when she assumed only bad people were kept in jail cells. Murderers. Thieves. Brutes. Even those who were not violent. Frauds. Debtors. But assisting her father and Isabella in their clinic in Edinburgh had changed that assumption forever. She now knew citizens were being arrested and charged—or simply held indefinitely by the authorities—for their beliefs or opinions, for gathering in groups, for protesting against unjust laws. Those people now languishing behind barred windows all over Britain and Ireland were fathers and mothers, sisters and brothers, even children. They were people like Fiona. Like John Gordon.
Anyone could be robbed of their freedom, tortured and killed, even though they’d never stolen a ha’penny nor lifted a hand against anyone.
This was the new justice. Morrigan lost track of how long she sat there, deep in thought. She was startled at the sound of a knock at the gate. The door opened. Aidan appeared.
“Come with me.”
He took hold of her hand, and the two of them walked out onto the street. As they passed the guard, Morrigan saw Aidan place some coins discreetly in his hand.
A hired post chaise was waiting, with Aidan’s horse tiedto the back. The postilion sitting on the lead horse tipped his tall hat.
Morrigan barely had a chance to look up and down the street for the men who were following her. Aidan quickly ushered her in and climbed in after her. They set off without another word.
Instead of continuing down Bridge Street toward the river, the driver turned the carriage and went down Church Street. They were heading north toward the Maggot. They’d not gone two blocks before she spotted two of her pursuers looking onto a tea shop window. Morrigan pointed them out to Aidan as she sat back in the seat, hiding her face until Sir Rupert’s men were behind them.
