But nothing outside sounded safe.
When darkness fell, the violence only worsened. She and Nanse dared not take out the muck and ashes as they always did, but tossed them from a window to the street, a thing that was against the law—although as Nanse said, everything about that night was lawless.
All up and down the Canongate came sounds of running feet and shouting voices and rough curses and the clatter of stones striking both the things they had been thrown at and the walls and doors behind.
What frightened Lily most was sitting blindly in the dark with shutters drawn across the windows, being unable to see outside while her imagination wildly conjured every crime she’d ever heard of and convinced her that whatever she was hearing was as wicked.
Upstairs, in the bedchamber she shared with Marion, she cautiously unlatched the shutter, opened it a crack, and peered down on the street.
Marion, behind her in bed, asked, “What do you see?”
The lanterns that by law were set out on each house to help illuminate the area had not yet been extinguished. The street for a moment looked empty, but then a small group of young men ran past, took a sharp turn into one of the closes, and melted to shadows against the stone walls. Behind them came other men carrying muskets and walking in a measured way Lily knew well. She said, “I see soldiers of the town guard. And I think that Captain Graeme is among them.”
She could not be sure, not from that distance, but one of the guardsmen gave an order to the others and they raised their muskets to their shoulders and they fired down the close after the fast-retreating shadows.
Lily did not like the sound of musket fire. It clawed the half-healed wound within her heart so that it bled anew, and tore her dreams that night apart with nightmares.
But still, within an hour, the Canongate had fallen silent, and the silence held.
It held next morning all through breakfast, and in the hour afterward while Lily did her dusting. Mr. Bell had gone out, leaving his apprentice to attend the shop, and Lily being mindful of the dangers of apprentices was tiptoeing with caution past the partly open door that led directly to the shop from the room in which she’d been working, when she heard a young man’s voice say, “The Devil murder Captain Graeme and his men!”
He said it low, but with such hatred Lily stopped in shock. She was behind the door, and so could not be seen, but she could hear. The voice did not belong to Mr. Bell’s apprentice.
“He ordered his soldiers to fire upon us, and if they were better shots I’d be a head shorter, but we did give them the slip and got into a cellar, where we found more of our friends, so we drank to the health of the Trades and the health of our mistresses and to the papists’ confusion. And then we made plans.”
“What plans?” That was Mr. Bell’s apprentice.
“First, we’ll rescue those two lads they took—the baxter and the other one. Then arm ourselves and rise against the town guard and kill Captain Graeme, and then there’ll be none to stop us tearing down the papists’ houses and killing them, too.”
Mr. Bell’s apprentice thought the risk too great. “I cannot join your rising.”
“You can furnish weapons for the cause. You do not want for blades. I have a friend who has two pistols who has promised he will lend me one of them,” the other said. “Give me swords as well, and Captain Graeme when he comes tonight will wish himself elsewhere.”
“The swords are not my own to give.”
“Think on it.”
Lily heard the outer shop door slam and quickly backed away into the inner chamber, still on tiptoe, grateful for the solid timber floorboards that did not betray her with a squeak. She felt relief to know that Mr. Bell’s apprentice was an honest young man. Surely upon Mr. Bell’s return he’d tell him all, and warn him of the coming danger to the town guard and the Catholics.
In the kitchen, Lily asked Nanse, “When will Mr. Bell be home?”
“I couldnae tell ye. But that pot needs scouring in the meantime.”
Lily scoured the pot, then helped Nanse pluck and breast three moor fowl they’d cook later for the family’s dinner, throwing legs and wings and all discarded pieces in the kettle for their own good broth with barley and some well-chopped Flanders onion. It was difficult to focus on her work and not the clock in the next room that counted off the hours and their quarters, but when the clock chimed ten times Lily asked Nanse, “Did Mr. Bell go far?”
“I couldnae tell ye that, and all.” Nanse looked at her. “Is it important?”