16
Wherever I looked, there were soldiers. They surrounded Penrioch and stood in small groups outside every cottage. Their uniforms were red as blood, their bayonets glittered in the moonlight, and they were as faceless as the granite of the high peaks.
What few glensfolk were there could only stare as one of Campbell’s gaugers produced a pair of heavy handcuffs and fastened my wrists together. Then I was pushed along the road with armed militiamen all around and my heart sinking to its lowest ever level.
“I did not steal anything,” I said. “Ensign Hepburn, you know me. You know I would never steal anything.”
Ensign Hepburn turned his head slightly. “The prisoner will remain silent,” he said.
“Do I have to wear these?” I held up my wrists, where the heavy manacles were chafing the fle
