Flower o' the Heather: A Story of the Killing Times

by Robert William MacKenna

"Come on, auld wife," growled the jailer: "the time's up. Ha'e ye ta'en yer fareweel o' the lass? I jalouse you'll no' see her again till she's swingin' at the end o' a tow."

There was no answer but a burst of sobbing from Mary, who turned from me. I sank back into the darkness of the cell, while she walked bowed as though with age and sorrow towards the open door. She passed through, the door clanged behind her and the key grated in the lock. With ears pressed tight against the door I listened eagerly to the sound of their retreating footsteps. Would she escape, or would some mishap reveal her to the jailer? My heart, that was in a tumult of suspense, bounded for joy when at last I heard the massive oak door close with a hollow clang on the doorposts. My loved one was free, and I--well, what did it matter? I had held her in my arms once again: I had kissed her sweet lips and with that memory to uphold me I could go bravely to my death. But hope beats high in the heart of youth. I ran my finger over the stout file which I had brought with me. In an hour--or at most two--I should be at liberty.

I had learned from Hector that the jailer would make a round of the Tolbooth at ten o'clock, now near at hand. On the last stroke of the hour on the town clock a beam of light came through the grille in the door and a voice said: "Is a' richt wi' ye?" I answered in a whisper. Whether all was right or not the jailer did not trouble to ascertain, for, with a grunt, the light was withdrawn from the grille and the sound of his footsteps faded away in the distance. I threw off the woman's garments that encumbered me.

The moment had come for action. The window, with its solitary bar, was set high above my head, and groping anxiously over the wall below for any means by which I might raise myself up to it, I found a few chinks, but none of them large enough for the purpose. Rapidly and noiselessly I scooped some of the mortar from between several of the great stones, and in a few minutes had succeeded in clambering up to the window and laying hold of the upright bar with my left hand. The wall was a thick one, and the outer sill of the window sloped down at a sharp angle from the bar. I recognised that once the bar was severed I should have little difficulty in squeezing myself through the window. Confidently I set to work, beginning at the top of the bar and filing on the inner side. I soon discovered that the iron was weather-beaten and rusty, and as the dust of it fell upon my left hand, tightly clasped about the base of the stanchion, I rejoiced to find that my task was proving easier than I anticipated. But when the bar was filed nearly half through at the top, the cramped position in which I was compelled to work began to weary me, and I dropped down upon the floor of the cell to rest. When I climbed up again, I passed the file to the outer side of the bar and set to work on it at the base. My hope was that when I had filed the stanchion half through, top and bottom, I might be able to break it. The tool bit into the iron, and I worked feverishly. Suddenly there was a snap--the handle of the file was left in my hand--the blade slid down over the sloping sill ere I could catch it, and I heard it drop with a tinkle in the street below.

For a moment I hung there in despair. I was left with nothing but my naked hands, and what could they do against a stout iron stanchion and thick stone walls. I threw my whole weight upon the bar and sought to break it through; but strive as I might it would neither bend nor break. A second time I tried, but still without avail. Its sharp edges tore my hands so that they were wet with blood, but, hardly conscious of physical pain, I continued to struggle with it. My efforts were fruitless, and from sheer exhaustion I was compelled to desist. I hung for a moment on the edge of the sill, and then dropped down into the cell. My shaking legs refused to support me and I sank in a heap on the ground, bathed in perspiration, with panting breath and parched tongue. As I lay there I remembered how I often watched a bird beating its wings vainly against the bars of its cage, and a great pity for all wild things made captive rose within me. Picking myself up I groped my way round till I reached the door. I felt for the grille. Its bars were thin and rickety, but even if they were removed my arm alone would scarcely go through that tiny aperture. I began to examine the door, passing my hands carefully over it in the hope of finding the lock. The lock was upon the other side! Escape in this direction was impossible, so I fumbled my way round until I stood beneath the window once more. I climbed up to make another attack upon the stanchion. Still it resisted me, and, at last, for very weariness I was compelled to desist and drop down to the floor again. The town clock struck one. A few short hours--I could count them up on the fingers of one hand--and I should be discovered, and discovery meant death. Well, Mary, my Mary, was safe, and my sacrifice was a very little price to pay for that. I had held her in my arms; I was content to die. As I sat in the dark, memory after memory of the things that had befallen me chased each other through my brain. Some were memories of unspeakable happiness, others were memories touched by pain, but even those of pain were made fragrant by the knowledge that my loved one was free.

In Hector's keeping she would be safe from harm. Hector--warm-hearted, beloved adventurer--I could trust her to him.

Once again the silence was broken as the town clock pealed out the hour of two. As its last note was dying I heard a muffled thud above me. I looked up quickly, but could see nothing except the faint beam of light which came through the window, blocked by that tantalising bar. What had the sound been? Was it some phantasm of my disordered brain? My senses were alert again, and I dragged myself once more up to the window. I peered out. Across the street I could see the roofs of the houses, but of the street itself I could catch no glimpse.

My ears had deceived me; there was nothing to be seen or heard. I had taken hold of the iron stanchion to steady myself, and the grip of my hand upon it awoke in me a fresh desire to put it to the test. Perhaps it needed only one more effort to break it! I would try. With legs wide apart I planted both my feet flat against the wall, and, bracing the muscles of my thighs until they were tight as bowstrings, I flung the whole weight of my body upon my outstretched arms, and, with breath held, pulled. Suddenly the beam of light that came through the window was broken by a moving shadow, as though a bird had flown across it, and almost in the same instant something struck me sharply on the chin, then fell between my extended limbs to the floor. In an instant I had dropped down into the cell and on hands and knees was groping for the missile. As I did so, something touched my face, and putting my hand out I caught a piece of cord. This guided me at once to the object of my search, and seizing it I discovered, to my amazement, that it was a book. The cord was firmly tied about it so that I could not open it; but there was no need for that. Its size and the smoothness of its leather cover told me that it was the copy of Horace which was Hector's constant companion. The darkness about me glistened with a thousand stars. Hope sprang on tip-toe in my heart again. Hector was just outside, and I should yet escape.

The cord ran up from the volume into the air towards the window, and, instinctively, I began to pull it in. From the weight of it I knew that there was something upon the other end. Foot by foot, yard by yard, as a seaman passes a cable through his hands, I hauled in the string until I heard a little metallic click as the object attached to it struck the stanchion set in the window, and the string became taut. Seizing the cord in my teeth, I scrambled up the wall. There on the sloping sill, one edge touching the iron bar, lay my file. I gripped it and would have fallen to work upon the stanchion at once, but I saw that I had not yet come to the end of the cord, which ran over the outer edge of the sill and disappeared from sight. So, unlooping the file from the running knot in which it was held, I continued to draw in the cord. As it came up I saw it thicken and knew that my faithful henchman in the street below was sending me a rope. Placing the file between my teeth, I hauled the rope in feverishly till at last the lower end of it was in my grip. I dropped it into the cell behind me and with new strength, but with infinite care, I set myself again to my task upon the bar. Now at the bottom, and now at the top I worked, the iron dust falling in little jets and trickling over the sill. Was it fancy, or was I working with greater skill?--the file seemed to bite more deeply and more easily into the iron. First on one side of the bar, then on the other, I worked, changing from top to bottom, or from bottom to top, as too long work in one position cramped me. Rasp, rasp ... I felt the bar vibrate like a violin string in the hand that held it. Rasp, rasp, rasp ... and a puff of wind from the outside blew the iron dust into my mouth and eyes. What cared I for that? Rasp, rasp, rasp ... and the top of the bar was cut so thin that I could break it through. I gripped the file in my teeth and, seizing the stanchion high up with both my hands, threw all my weight upon it. It bent just above its base, but did not break, and where its iron fibres were at tensest strain in the bottom of the groove which I had already cut, I set the file to work once more. The iron gave like crumbling bread before the teeth of the file, till the bar was so thin that with one hand I could bend it in whichever direction I pleased. One strong pull towards me, one mighty thrust outwards, and the stanchion broke with a snap so sudden that the hand which held it shot out through the window. I steadied myself with my left hand on the inner edge of the sill; then I dropped down on tip-toe and seized the rope. As I did so, my fingers touched the volume which had brought me to safety. Breaking the string which bound it, I slipped it into my pocket. It would never do to leave it, neither would it do to leave behind me the disguise I had worn. I gathered up the bundle and tied it tightly about with the cord, the end of which I took in my teeth. Then with the rope round my neck I swarmed up the wall to the window. To my joy, when I reached it, I found that in my efforts to break the bar I had bent the lower end inwards. The stump, thus curved, would give a securer hold to the rope upon which I was about to trust myself. It seemed hardly strong enough to bear my weight, but its length was ample, far greater than I should need. So I doubled it over the stump of the stanchion and having passed it out over the sill, began to worm myself through the window. Slowly and painfully I pushed my way through, and at last my head and the upper part of my body were beyond the aperture. I bent forward, gripping the rope as far off as my arms could reach, and throwing my weight down upon my hands so that the rope was taut, I wriggled myself through until I felt my toes were touching the inner edge of the sill.

Now had the moment come for all my courage. Slowly moving my hands one beyond another, I disengaged my feet from the inner edge of the sill and for a moment hung head downwards. Would the rope hold? If not, I should crash upon the pavement beneath me, a broken, lifeless mass. But it held! As I felt my toes slipping down the slope of the sill, I twisted my body to one side so that my feet and legs described a half-circle, and for a moment I swung to and fro against the wall like the pendulum of a clock. Then I lowered myself quickly. Before the last of the rope had run through my hands my feet were upon the ground, and I was free. Somewhere a voice, close beside me, whispered, "No sae bad. No sae bad." Turning, I saw Hector. He patted me on the back, and then whispered anxiously, "I hope you ha'ena forgot to bring my Horace?" I could have screamed with laughter, but all I did was to nod my head with vigour. Then I took the cord from between my teeth and proceeded to haul upon it. The bundle at its end caught for a moment as it was passing through the window, and then fell, a dark mass out of the heights above, and I caught it as it fell. Hastily I put it into Hector's hands, and seizing the lower end of the rope jerked it once--twice--thrice. The loop above disengaged itself from the stanchion, and in its fall struck me upon the upturned face.