Page 20 of The Changeling

I flushed and took it. He slipped his arm about my waist, turning me so I was tucked close to his body. ‘Take a step,’ he instructed me, ‘then kick and hop.’ I obeyed, Robbie holding me steady. We moved as one, in perfect rhythm. ‘And again. Now a little twirl.’

As we turned, he lifted me and spun me, both feet swinging up into the air. I was not expecting it. All my breath rushed away. He set me down gently, and again we stepped and kicked and skipped, turned and spun. He guided and commanded me, and my body obeyed. I was amazed, not just for that moment of weightlessness when I flew through the air, but because I had made an impossible wish and it had come true.

The music faded away. Robbie held me in the curve of his arm, looking down at me. The lamplight was bright upon my face, but his was in shadow.

‘You have the deepest, darkest eyes I have ever seen,’ he said in a low, husky voice. ‘Like nobody else’s.’ He drew me closer. ‘I’ve never known a girl like you. I think you’d dare anything.’

I rose on tiptoe and kissed him.

His arms tightened, and he kissed me back. A little shock zinged through my body.

‘Robbie!’ a voice called sternly.

He jerked. Our mouths broke apart. He turned and looked up. ‘Aye, Father?’

‘We have an early start. Come and get ready for bed.’

‘Aye, Father.’ Robbie released me, and I stumbled. He put out his hand and steadied me, then went in obedience to his father’s command. I was left alone in the shadowy garden.

They sent Robbie and Rory away the next day.

The maids told me the twins had been sent south to Yorkshire, to serve the earl of Lennox, who had been one of the most powerful Catholic lords in Scotland until he had married Henry VIII’s niece and moved to England.

‘The earl has two sons, much the same age as Rory and Robbie,’ one said, ‘and both in line for the English throne! Lady Marjorie thinks it a great opportunity for them.’

I knew it was because Lord George did not want his son to dally with the daughter of one of his servants. My suspicions were confirmed when I was politely told that the Grahams of Inchbrakie no longer required my services.

‘We worry that the work is too much for you,’ Lady Marjorie told me, not meeting my eyes. ‘On your feet all day. And such a long walk to and fro each day!’

‘It’s no’ so far! I can manage it,’ I cried.

‘I’m sorry. We think it best.’

Keeping my head high, I marched out of the castle and across the drawbridge, Carlin close beside me, looking up into my face anxiously. My eyes smarted. No more galloping. No more dancing. No more stolen moments with Robbie, talking and laughing. No more kissing.

I flushed hotly, remembering his mouth on mine. I could think of naught else. But he was gone far away, and I did not know if I would ever see him again.

Three weeks later, my twin and I turned fourteen. There was no singing for soul-cakes or dooking for apples, no Hallowe’en fire on the Knock. Pastor Malison had banned them all. It was the most desolate birthday we had ever had.

I was asleep, dreaming, when a voice I had long ago forgotten called to me.

Rue, Rue, where are you? Come out, come out, wherever you are.

I sat up. Sorcha slept peacefully beside me. All was quiet. The call came again. I rose from my bed, fumbled for my stick. Carlin slept at the end of our bed, curled nose to tail. She did not stir. For the first time in a long time, I went forth without her. I made my way, barefoot, through the frosty garden, over the fields and into the woods.

Rue, Rue, where are you? Come …

Faint eerie music. There was no path, but my feet remembered the way. Through nettles and bracken, over mossy roots and hunched boulders, up the steep rise of the Knock. A thread of starlight, hooked into my heart, winding, winding, tighter and tighter. It was so cold. I wore naught but my chemise. Huddling my arms about me, I stumbled on.

‘Rue,’ the witch whispered aloud. ‘The seventh daughter of a seventh daughter.’

I remembered her then. I had been here before. The dark cave mouth, the gateway of interlaced elder trees, the portcullis of human skulls.

I shrank back. ‘Who are you? What do you want with me?’

She bent down and raised me, drawing me into her arms. ‘I am your true mother. I gave you up long ago, for you are destined to save our people from a terrible curse. Six girls I bore before you, and six girls I sacrificed so that you might be born. You cannot fail me.’

I was fainting with cold and horror. She held me close, so tender and yet so cruel.